Turba Malum
by deadwoodpecker
Summary: The night after Voldemort's defeat, a baby was left on a doorstep. But someone was watching from the shadows, and took matters into his own hands. He took Harry Potter, and left someone else behind... Please enjoy this fun little story.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

He watched the activity along the drive, twisting his long fingers together, eyes peering from the hedge where he was concealed. It seemed like a nice, quiet street, but he couldn't be sure. There was always so much that went on behind closed doors that nobody knew about. He'd seen too much hidden behind the facades of perfect families to believe anything anymore.

After hours of waiting, the lights along Privet Drive went out one by one as a tall wizard walked down the street. In the distance, a dull roar began to grow.

His heart began to pound in his chest, making it hard to hear as the sound traveled to the very tips of his ears. He licked his lips and shuffled his feet, fingers twisting impossibly tighter until they ached.

He could just make out the shape of something looming and large as the roar echoed along the darkened street, until a large man astride a massive motorcycle came to a stop in front of No. 4.

He could hear the conversation, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the bundle of blankets wrapped in the giant's arms. It was him. The boy.

The anticipation grew and he peered at the exchange, just waiting for his chance. Next to him, in a basket he'd brought with him earlier, it was still and silent.

Once the boy was in place, left on the doorstep to No. 4, he waited as the lights went on one by one, and the elderly wizard gave one last fond glance before disappearing.

It was time. He shifted his own basket into place and stuck to the shadows, careful not to startle any house cats or suspicious neighbors. Finally, painstakingly, he arrived on the same doorstep he'd been watching and looked down at the sleeping child inside. Harry Potter.

He blinked at the child, taking in all of the features-the pale face, dark hair, and lightning shaped cut on the forehead. His own basket was placed next to the Potter boy and opened, revealing another sleeping child. This was was the opposite in appearance to Potter in every way. With some concentration, the two blended until the child he'd brought was the mirror image of little Harry. Carefully, so as not to disturb either baby, he switched their baskets, leaving his child on the doorstep and readying to take Harry with him.

He melted back into the shadows, taking one child, leaving another. Saving both of them, he believed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

19 Years Later

Ginny huffed, blowing hair out of her eyes as she tucked her broom under her arm and peered up at the trees, counting them as she'd always had to do to remember the directions. Four trees past the large oak, then left, down the embankment, and two more trees after the rock that looked like a hippogriff. It had always looked more like a squatting giraffe to Ginny, but she wasn't going to win any argument with her brothers.

A rustling off to her left startled her and she spun, her wand at the ready. One couldn't be too careful these days, with the war still on and Death Eaters always skirting about.

"Bloody buggering hell!"

She lowered her wand a fraction of an inch as Ron stumbled into view, tugging on his robes as the hem got tangled in some brambles. He looked up, startled at seeing Ginny there, and lifted his own wand.

"Which one of the twins has a mole on his left-"

"Too easy," Ginny snapped. "Everyone's seen that mole thanks to that party in Gryffindor Tower after they won the house cup."

Ron's grin grew and he lowered his wand. "Running late?"

"I just got off," she said, indicating the broom tucked under her arm.

Ron joined her on the worn trail. He looked disheveled more than usual and it amused Ginny. There were singe marks in his robes, and several tears that made Ginny wonder if he'd gotten them from traipsing around the woods behind the Burrow, or if they'd come from someplace else.

"Rough day?"

Ron sighed and rubbed his eyes as they continued to trudge on. The sun was sinking lower and lower, making the shadows stretch long. "You don't want to know."

"Of course I do," she said. "Your days are always more exciting than mine."

"You get to fly for a living," he pointed out. He tugged at the twigs on the end of her broom and she looked dolefully down at it.

"Testing brooms," she scoffed, "is not flying. Not really. It's not the best job out there."

"Can't be picky these days," Ron said, echoing something their parents had always told them.

Ginny nodded and swallowed back the sour taste that always came when she thought about her job. She'd been hopeful to land a coveted spot on any Quidditch team right out of school, but with the war lingering, the leagues were having to cut games out of their play schedule until teams were nothing but bare bones. Sports just weren't a high priority.

"Come on, then," she said, slowing her step. They were almost to the tree where the ladder dangled, and her time was running out. Ron would never admit in front of the twins how much he was struggling with Auror training; they'd never let him alone about it. "How bad was it?"

Ron grimaded and shook his head, but he did stop walking. Ginny was the only one he confided in these days, and even then she knew he edited much, simply out of loyalty to his best friend.

"It's…" He almost said one thing and then shook his head with a huge heave of his shoulders. "It's bullocks. Harry's… Well, he's pants at most of this. I can't…" He stared off into the distance, a pained expression on his face. "I just don't understand it, Gin." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "He's the bloody Boy Who Lived, for Merlin's sake, and he can't even…" His voice trailed off and his jaw clamped.

Ginny fought the urge to laugh, knowing it would not go over well. The friendship between Ron and Harry had been a strange one, and Ginny was never quite sure what held it together, honestly. Ron was fiercely loyal even when Harry had been lukewarm about becoming friends in the first place. But over time, and Ron's persistent efforts, the two friends had cemented some weird bond between them that seemed determined to last.

Harry Potter was strange, even by wizarding standards. He seemed as if he was always half a step out of synch with everything around him. Ginny bit her lip and swallowed back any comment that might sneak out. There was just something about Harry that was...off.

"Well, come on. Best get up there." Ron motioned toward the tree they were headed toward. Ginny let her eyes trace the trunk all the way up to the rickety structure held there by magic. The treehouse had been built by their father, secretly, back when Bill and Charlie were young. Ginny wasn't sure if her mother knew about it and just kept quiet, or if it was a complete secret. Even her father had seemed to forget over the years that it existed.

Through the years it had become the location were all of the serious business of the Weasley siblings had taken place. Nobody outside of the family-not even significant others-knew about the treehouse.

Ron loped ahead and grabbed the lowest rung on the ladder. "Want me to give you a boost?"

But Ginny just shook her head and slid her broom into place, rising slowly and laughing at Ron's perturbed face.

"No need to climb when I can fly," she called out just before ducking into the hole in the floorboards.

Fred and George were inside, waiting, when Ron finally clambered through the hole. Their grinning faces only annoyed him more.

"Multiplying charm on the rungs?" He huffed. "Was that really necessary?" He called them a nasty name that only made his two brothers and sister laugh.

"Been awhile since we messed with your head," Fred said with a shrug. "Wouldn't want to lose our edge."

Ron wanted to snap at them, but he realized it could have been much worse. And, really, climbing a few dozen feet extra had worked off a little of his frustrations from training today, anyway.

"Next time, bring a broom," Ginny said.

"Don't think we won't take care of that option next time," George warned her with waggling eyebrows.

"Let's just get on with this," Ron said. He pulled an old apple crate toward him, eyeing it dubiously, before slowly lowering to sit on it. "I have to go back to the Ministry for awhile tonight." He waited for the twins to say something, to poke fun at him, or make some off-color remark, but they let it slide, thankfully.

Ginny leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm assuming this little meeting is about-"

"Percy."

An awkward silence filled the room. Nobody had heard from their brother in months. He'd been working in the Department of International Cooperation at the Ministry for years. At the beginning of the year there had been an extreme change in his behavior. Ron and Percy were never very close, but even he noticed the change in demeanor; Percy usually talked non-stop about his job, but he became taciturn, secretive, and even surly when anyone questioned him. He'd moved out of the Burrow, leaving vague hints about where he was living. His visits and communication with the entire family grew stunted. And then had stopped completely three months ago. And despite Ron's best efforts, nobody at the Ministry seemed inclined to share any information about him.

"He's a prat," Ginny said. There was enough fondness in her voice, however, that the name calling was more out of habit than malice.

"I can keep trying with the Ministry," said Ron, "but…"

"It'll be a dead end," Ginny warned. "It's the Ministry. We'll be lucky if we ever find out what's going on."

Ron had to concede the point, even though it rankled. "Then why are we even trying? There's nothing we can do. He'll either show up again, or…" His words died away and a sick feeling erupted in his gut. There were so many ways that all of this could go horribly wrong. While there wasn't open fighting, just yet, Ron knew that the Death Eaters were growing in strength every day, and that You-Know-Who was just lurking in the shadows. It was the one reason he'd wanted to join the Aurors, despite his mother's pleading with him to find something-anything-else to do for a living. Ron felt an obligation to protect those he loved. And Harry felt the same way. Well, mostly. Almost. Maybe.

Harry was-

His thought was interrupted by Ginny's loud smack against the side of the treehouse and the twins exchanging one of their "looks".

"There's something we can do," Fred said.

Ron and Ginny peered at him, unsure whether to believe him or not. You never could be sure with the twins.

"Someone we could contact," George said.

Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, 'you know a bloke'."

Ron snorted at the familiar phrase. It had become something of a joke with the family that anytime the twins were in a sticky situation they would claim that they 'knew a bloke' who could help out. Ron had come to believe it was just a euphemism for their conniving and mysterious knack for getting themselves out of trouble.

"No," Fred said. "We really do know a bloke."

"Sort of."

"In a way."

George shook his head. "We don't actually know him. Just...know of him."

"And this is someone reputable?" They both stared at Ginny, aghast.

"Of course not!"

"Don't be stupid!"

"Why would we know someone reputable?" Fred said. "Not really an asset in our line of work."

Ron pretended not to hear, even though he was filled with curiosity. If he knew details, he might feel required to turn his brothers in for their shady dealings. The feeling, however, passed. Family loyalty meant more than anything to Ron.

"What could your bloke really do?" he asked. "It's the Ministry, after all."

"You'd be surprised," Fred said.

"He's rather…" George trailed off and a wicked smile blossomed on his face. "Let's just say that he knows people, who know people, and he can take care of issues that the normal witch or wizard wouldn't know how to handle."

Ron and Ginny exchanged a look.

"And is your girlfriend okay with you knowing people like this?" Ginny asked.

Fred had the good grace to look abashed but he shrugged. "What she doesn't know won't hurt me."

"I'm in," Ginny said finally.

Ron gaped at her. "Ginny!"

His sister glared at him and shrugged. "What other option do we have, Ron? It's Percy. He's family. And if their bloke can get the job done…" She turned to look at the twins, who both nodded firmly. "Then I say we give it a try."

Ron's stomach twisted and turned as he weighed the options. He didn't need to get mixed up in anything illegal, or even shady. His position in the Auror department was only tentative, at the moment, due to all the messes he and Harry had been getting into lately. If they found out that his brothers had roped him into something underhanded… Well, it could sever ties that Ron desperately wanted to keep intact. The desire to tell Harry about what was going on niggled at the back of his mind, but Ron pushed it away. Harry might be his best friend, but the bloke had a strange relationship with the rest of the Weasley family. He didn't always understand what family was all about. Not that Ron could blame him…

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. I'm in."

"What do we do?" Ginny seemed much more eager, and Ron decided that he wasn't really surprised. She had always been rather impetuous, even foolhardy at times.

"We write a letter," George said. "Then we summon-"

"Hold on," Ron said. "Summon? Summon! As in, ghosts, or spirits?"

"An owl," George finished, glaring at Ron.

"That's it?"

"Not completely," Fred said. "It's a particular owl, and it takes a while, sometimes. He's a busy bloke. No idea how long it could take before we hear something, but he'll contact us. He always has."

"I'm assuming that this 'service' costs?"

"Oh, loads," Fred said. He rummaged in a bag that sat next to him and pulled out a thin stack of parchment and a quill. "But it's worth it." He began scribbling away while George looked over his shoulder.

"How do you know this person?" Ron asked, unsure if he even wanted the answer.

"He's helped us out a time or two," Fred mumbled cryptically. The tip of his tongue poked out the side of his lips as the quill danced along the parchment.

"He took care of that Ludo Bagman situation for us a few years ago," George explained. "Got old Ludo to pay up when he'd tried to get out of paying what he owed us. That's where we got the money to start the store."

Ron remembered the "Bagman Situation" well. His mother hadn't stopped scowling for four months after discovering that Fred and George had been betting on various sporting events to gather enough money to start their own joke shop. And she'd given them a stern "serves you right" when Bagman had tried to skip town without paying. Ron had never known how the twins had resolved the situation, or hired someone else to do so, it seemed.

"And he's procured some of our more...questionable potions ingredients," George admitted. "Handy bloke to have around at times."

The image they were painting made Ron uncomfortable, but he had to admit that this wizard did seem like a handy person to know.

"And you've met him?" Ginny asked.

George pulled a face. "Not...exactly. Never face to face. He doesn't like to meet. Very particular about that point. After he contacts us, we go by the rules he sets."

"Finished," Fred said. He held up the parchment and Ron couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment.

They were hiring a bloke they'd never met, never even seen before, to do something likely nefarious, to track down their wayward, prattish older brother. What could go wrong?

Fred folded the letter and magically sealed it. He stepped toward the window in the treehouse and held his wand outside, concentrating enough that his eyes narrowed and a wrinkle formed in his brow. "Turba Malum!"

A faint puff of dark purple smoke floated in wisps from the tip of his wand for a moment. They all watched it in awed anticipation.

Fred dropped his arm and gave a little shrug and nervous laugh. "Now we wait."

"Rather anticlimactic," Ginny said.

"You'd expect more, wouldn't you?" George said with a smirk.

Silence settled again as they waited, for what, Ron couldn't say.

"Sunday dinner at the Burrow, yeah?" Fred said. "Mum making chicken again?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

More silence.

"Test any good brooms lately?"

"No."

"Catch any bad guys lately?"

"No."

They all stared at each other, unsure of what to say while they waited for whatever might happen.

"Business good?"

"Not really."

And then suddenly, as if it had apparated there, a small, dark owl, about the size of a quaffle and almost as round, appeared at the window. It gave a low-pitched hoot and held it's leg out toward the room.

"Blimey."

"Sort of spooky, right?"

"Don't get too close."

"And you're sure this bloke isn't some sort of Death Eater?"

"No clue," Fred said as he tied the message to the leg of the owl. "But I can't imagine he'd be helping us out if he was. He seems on the right side."

"You hope."

They all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the owl took flight, message attached, and watched as it wove in and out of the trees, and finally out of sight.

"That's that, then," George said.

"Come on, I'll buy a pint for anyone who wants one," Fred said.

"And you'll let us know when-"

"If-"

"Of course."

Ron rubbed at his chest, uneasy with what they were doing, even though he couldn't think of anything better to do. This was family, and sometimes you had to set aside principles to help family.

Fred disappeared down the hole, followed by Ginny. George lingered back with Ron, watching as their siblings left, talking quietly between them.

"Alright, Ron?"

"Yeah."

"Seeing anyone?"

"Don't have time for dating." Ron tried not to bristle. George meant well in asking. He was the only one who'd discovered Ron's secret and he'd been good enough to keep his mouth shut. They didn't talk about it often, or ever, really, and Ron was grateful.

"Well, maybe you'll meet someone one day."

"Yeah," Ron said, even though he didn't hold out much hope. It wasn't easy when you fancied your brother's girlfriend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The room was dark, just the way he liked it. Shadows and silence. There was a comfort to be found in the blackness. He'd learned that it was best to stay hidden. So much more could be accomplished when he remained out of the notice of others.

And so he remained in the shadows of life, hidden in the darkness, existing only as a faint movement, an echo that may or may not exist.

Sirius called him dramatic, but, in truth, Sirius had lived in the shadows for almost as long as he had.

"Post!"

He looked up from the book he was reading at Sirius' call. A sigh left his lips and he shook his head. Post for most wizards meant something far different than it did for this house.

"Blackheart? Where did you get off to?"

"In the library."

Sirius strode down the hallway and leaned on the door jam. He held up a sealed piece of parchment by the corner, as if it might bite him.

"Anything good?"

"You know I don't open it," he said with a smirk. "Never have, never will. I'm not your personal assistant."

Blackheart sighed and set his book aside. He was bored with it anyway. He held out his hand and summoned the letter to him, wondering what this one was about. Lately, the requests had been coming in steadily as word of his skills spread. While it kept the money flowing in, it was not always a good thing to be known in the circles that he was.

"As long as it's not another Death Eater request," he mumbled. The last one had come just the other day, a plea to help the Death Eaters infiltrate the Ministry via the Minister of Magic himself. While Blackheart certainly had no love for the Ministry, he agreed with the Death Eaters even less.

"Cheating spouse?" Sirius asked casually as Blackheart scanned the inquiry. "Business deal gone bad?"

Blackheart sighed. "Business abroad," he mumbled. "One of my former clients needs help tracking a suspect on the continent."

Sirius' eyebrows rose and he gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Haven't been over there in awhile."

"Shouldn't take long," Blackheart said. "The French Ministry always pays well, but they leak like a sieve. I'm surprised that they haven't found this bloke already, just on their own."

"Ah, well, you know the French…" Sirius raised his shoulders in a dismissive shrug.

Blackheart rose and stretched, already mentally marking the steps he would need to take to leave Britain and slip unnoticed into France. His contact there would help, of course, but it was up to him to get the ball rolling.

"Wait...is this the French woman?"

Blackheart didn't answer, but just smiled smugly as he passed through the doorway and down the hall. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would," Sirius said. "I'd like to go, actually."

"We both know you can't leave the house," Blackheart said, even though it didn't need to be said. Sirius hadn't left Grimmauld Place in years, not even in his Animagus form. There had been a few close calls with determined Aurors that were not worth the risk. And even though Sirius would have been more than willing to take the risks, Blackheart wasn't. He'd charmed the entire house to prevent Sirius from leaving.

Maybe it was extreme, but it was necessary for the time being. He sometimes felt bad for imprisoning Sirius, he didn't feel that he had a choice right now. Perhaps if Sirius wasn't so foolhardy and reckless…

"I'll figure it out, Master!" Sirius called as Blackheart cringed.

"Don't call me that."

But Sirius only laughed and went about whatever it was he did all day. Blackheart pushed the guilt down deep and began summoning the things he would need to be away from the house for a few weeks. One never knew how long these cases would take.

"He will come." She refused to look at the man next to her, instead focusing on the grey morning fog surrounding them and the way it crept along the ground like a spell. If she didn't know better, she might guess that's exactly what it was. And it would suit his purposes to create something just like it.

"You have a lot of faith in this mystery man," her partner said.

"He has proven himself in the past."

"You know nothing about him."

Her back prickled in irritation, goosebumps raising along her neck. "I know enough."

Bonneau only nodded as he pulled his overcoat tighter around him and shivered from the cool air enveloping them. "You fancy him."

The French Auror sniffed disdainfully. "I do not like English men," she said plainly. In truth, she was rather distrustful of all men, given her heritage and past experiences. This man they were waiting for intrigued her, but not in a romantic way. He was a mystery, one that she seemed drawn to discover. At the same time, the secrecy he worked under was necessary, she believed, and she understood his desire to remain unknown.

"How do you know he is English?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but realized that Bonneau was correct. She'd made an assumption because he spoke only in English and the Ministry wired his payment to a Gringott's account. But that all might be a ruse, might it not?

"He is here."

A dark figure appeared in the fog, moving closer until he stood in front of them. Floating next to him was the man that the Aurors had been tracking for months. He was bound and stunned.

"Your prisoner, Mademoiselle Delacour."

She startled and peered into the black cloak that concealed the man's face and form. There was some sort of charm there, also, obscuring any chance at recognition. Fleur was impressed with the spell work.

"I do not remember telling you my name."

She got the impression that he smiled, although without seeing his face it was impossible to tell.

"Is it not polite to tell me yours, then, Monsieur Ombragė?" It was a blatant flirt, and likely not fair at all as Fleur tried her best to charm him.

But he only laughed, a deep rumble that made her both chagrined and annoyed. "I'm afraid that is not the way this works."

"Very well, then." She raised her wand and took control of the floating body. He may have dragged slightly on the ground as she floated him to Bonneau's side, but Fleur didn't feel bad at all. This wizard had been peddling illegal potions to children and would now pay for his crimes.

"Monsieur Ombragė, will you walk with me a moment?" Fleur gave her partner a sideways glance, ignoring the perturbed look on his face. But she was the ranking partner and made the decisions.

The shadowy man obliged and fell into step beside her. "The funds have been transferred to your account, just as before."

"Thank you."

"My partner is-"

"Curious?"

"Nosy," she corrected with a smile. "He does not trust you."

"He has little reason to," the man pointed out.

"But I do," Fleur pressed on. "You have given me reason to."

They walked a few more paces in silence. "How is your sister, then?"

Fleur's heart fluttered slightly at the thought of what this man had done for her, personally. "She is recovering. A little better each day."

Gabrielle had gone missing from Beauxbatons just over a year ago and was missing for several months. Out of desperation, Fleur had stumbled upon the work of this man next to her and begged for his assistance in finding her little sister. Within days, Gabrielle had been found and returned to her family home. She was traumatized and suffering from minor wounds, but safe once again thanks to the man Fleur called Monsieur Ombragė.

She had not hesitated to call on him several months later when the French Aurors had found themselves in a sticky situation with their magical government. And Monsieur Ombragė had delivered once again.

"That is good."

"We are in your debt again," Fleur said.

"Not at all."

"I know you see this as a mutually beneficial business arrangement-"

"Is it not?"

Fleur laughed softly and shook her head. "What I mean to say, sir, is that I am in your debt, both personally and professionally, no matter the fees already paid. If there is anything you ever need, you know where to find me."

The man gave a nod and turned, shadow rippling across the place where his face should be. "Mademoiselle Delacour." He gave a half bow and winked out of existence with a snap. As he left, a breeze picked up and blew the fog from the landscape, leaving the grey morning in its place.

"Of course." Fleur laughed again as she turned on her heel and returned to her partner.

When Blackheart apparated into the house, he listened closely, expecting Sirius to appear, demanding a report of all things French. But nobody greeted him. He scowled and scanned the magical signatures in the house, finding everything in place. Nobody had come or gone unexpectedly.

"Padfoot?"

No answer.

Blackheart checked the magic again, looking closer now at the wards. Sirius was a powerful wizard, but he'd never found a way past the wards on the house before. Was it possible…?

A dull thump-thump echoed from upstairs and Blackheart pondered it a moment before barking out a laugh. He bounded up the stairs, making his way up to the top floor. In the dark recesses of one of the bedrooms he found Sirius...dangling upside down from the ceiling, bound and gagged.

Blackheart leaned against the wall and shook his head slowly. "How many times have you tried this and found the exact same results?"

Sirius glared at him and pushed off the wall, only succeeding in making himself swing back and forth wildly.

"And how long have you been like this this time?"

A muffled groan answered him back. Blackheart grinned and silently removed the gag from Sirius' mouth. A foul stream of profanity answered him, but he waited it out.

"How long?"

"Your elf came," Sirius growled. "He wouldn't let me down, either."

Blackheart nodded. "How long?"

"Three days."

"And have you had a change of heart?"

Another string of profanities bounced off the walls.

"I might if you'd ever let me out of this prison. I didn't escape Azkaban only to be locked up in this miserable place forever, you know."

"You know what the Ministry would do if you were caught."

Sirius struggled once more before going limp. "Back to Azkaban."

"No," Blackheart barked. "It'd be the kiss for you. They've been saying it for years now. You're still a wanted man, Padfoot. And I can't…" He huffed out a breath and shook his head, wishing he had a way with words enough to convey what he wanted to say. "I can't do what I do without you."

"I know."

"Then why do you try to apparate out?"

"I didn't this time."

Blackheart's eyes were drawn to the window, which he'd just now realized was cracked open. "You tried to climb out the window?"

Sirius didn't answer, just glared.

"It's for your own good." Blackheart released him, lowering him slowly to the ground.

Sirius lay on the floor, his long hair in disarray around his head. "Would you think so if it were you locked away like this?"

"In a way, I am," Blackheart answered. He stared at the small bit of light let in by the open window. "I can't show my face outside this house, not my real face, anyway. And nobody knows I even exist."

"We're a pair, aren't we?"

Their eyes met and they both sighed. Sometimes this life was so very lonely, for both of them. Soon, they would both need to make some decisions about the future. Hiding away in the dark wasn't going to be an option for very much longer. The Death Eaters were beginning to ravage the country and Blackheart was tired of trying to clean up their messes. And the Ministry wasn't much better. If they knew where he was-or even who he was-there would be no stopping them from using him as some sort of weapon.

"Did Dobby leave?"

"He said he'd return later," Sirius said. "You need to get that elf in hand. He's far too independent for his own good."

Blackheart just laughed and shook his head. "There's no controlling him. You know this."

"You're the only one with a chance at doing it."

"He's a free elf," Blackheart pointed out. "And he's probably more capable than either of the two of us. Come on then, you're probably starved."

"Famished."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The hustle and bustle of the Ministry had always fascinated him, and Ron sat in the atrium, watching people walk back and forth. But how much of it was business, and how much simply busyness? Having worked in the Ministry now for almost a year, Ron thought he was beginning to spot the difference.

The fireplaces to his left flashed green off and on as Ministry workers came and went, their busyness consuming an entire day. He'd just returned from a strange mission and couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it all. His bones ached and he felt the cold of the Dementors all the way through him. Just thinking about it made him shiver.

"Hey, mate!" Harry slid into the seat next to him, peering at Ron. "Alright?"

They'd been assigned to different Senior partners last week and were often split up in their duties throughout the day. But at least they were finished with most of the schooling part of their training. Both had just barely passed by the skin of their teeth.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled. "Azkaban."

Harry winced and shook his head slowly. "At least you're doing something. They've stuck me standing guard at Gringotts."

Ron wanted to feel bad for his friend, but he just couldn't work up the energy. Gringotts duty might be boring, but at least Harry didn't have to drain himself by casting a Patronus half a dozen times a day.

"Anything interesting?" Harry was always interested in the details of the jobs that Ron went on. He took a sort of sick pleasure in hearing the stories. It had always awed Ron and he hesitated, but found himself talking all the same.

"Remember hearing about Lucius Malfoy?"

Harry's forehead wrinkled and he rubbed at his scar, a habit that annoyed Ron. Harry said the scar never bothered him, but that he'd gotten used to touching it over the years and did so without thinking now. "Didn't he get chucked in Azkaban for breaking into houses, or something?"

Ron nodded. "Dozen years ago, or so. He's a complete loon. Gone round the twist. He claims that his son was kidnapped years ago and went crazy trying to find him. He was stalking Wizarding families, breaking into houses to look at their kids." He shook his head slowly, remembering the deranged eyes of the man dressed in nothing but rags, his blond hair filthy and tangled strings as it ran down his back.

"He's still just as crazy, all these years later."

"Wasn't there something about his wife?" Harry asked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I remember hearing something when we were in school."

"That's probably the most tragic thing about the story. I don't know all the details, but I guess she took a load of potions, hoping to off herself. But it didn't work. She's locked away in St. Mungo's Permanent Ward now. Just goes on and on about her kid."

Harry shuddered and pushed his hair off his forehead. "Did they even have a kid?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Nobody knows what happened. He just disappeared one day when he was a baby, Malfoy claimed. Most people assumed he killed the kid, or there was some sort of accident or something. Don't think we'll ever know."

"And why did they have you talking to Malfoy? Does he know something about the war?"

Ron shook his head. "No. I was there for someone else. Malfoy just reached out through the bars as we passed, begged me to look for his son."

They both slipped into silence and watched as a group of workers passed by them, leading some strange creature down the hallway. Ron had never seen this beast before and wondered what it was, before shaking his head to clear it. Whatever it was, it had magical powers of some sort, because anyone who the group passed look slightly dazed.

"Gringotts still safe?"

Harry shook his head, as well, and blinked at Ron. "Er, yeah. Yeah."

"Dull duty, though." Even though Azkaban had not been pleasant, he wasn't sure he could handle standing in one place for hours at a time, watching nothing.

"Yeah, well, someone has to do it, they tell me. Ever since that bloke broke in last Spring…" Harry trailed off, a sort of smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "Got to admire someone that can pull that off, thought, right? Nobody knows how he got in, nobody can figure how he escaped. But several vaults were breached…"

Ron remembered the story well. Everyone at the Ministry had been stunned speechless by the daring daylight robbery of Gringotts. "Still no word on what was stolen?"

Harry shook his head. "Goblins aren't saying a word."

"You think they're in on it?"

Harry's eyebrows lifted as he considered Ron's theory. "Some people think so. No clue if it's true. Would make sense, I suppose, but why say anything about it if they were? You'd think they'd keep it quiet and not demand Ministry protection."

"I suppose," Ron said, "unless only a few of them were in on it. Or even just one. Bill has a whole load of theories that he was talking about last time he was in town. He said it was nearly impossible to break in, and damned impossible to break out. Even he can't figure how it was done."

Harry shrugged and watched another group of workers pass, this time all witches. His eyes roamed over their robes intently. "Whatever happened, it's still dead dull."

Ron nudged his friend to get him to stop staring and just shook his head.

"We should go out this weekend," Harry suggested. "Get a pint, meet someone."

"Nah," Ron drawled. The idea of just climbing into his bed sounded better.

"Is your sister around?"

Ron couldn't help but smirk. Harry's interest in Ginny was no secret among anyone. He'd watched her all through school, despite Ron's attempts to curb his interest. Ginny had been taken with the idea of Harry, but her crush had faded when she'd gotten to know him. She'd gotten very good at what she called "evasive maneuvers" over the years to escape Harry's interested looks and advances.

"She doesn't like you," Ron pointed out once more.

"What's not to like?" Harry said with a smirk. "I'm the Boy Who Lived."

"That right there's probably a good hint," Ron said as he stood and began to walk away.

"I was kidding!" Harry called as Ron made his way down the hallway.

"I just don't understand, Severus."

They both stared at the ruined cup and locket set in the middle of Dumbledore's desk. They'd been sitting there one morning when he'd arrived in his office, and had been sitting there ever since. Both men were perplexed on what to make of the artifacts.

"Have you told the boy?"

Dumbledore removed his glasses and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "I have not told Harry, yet."

The weight of the prophecy had been growing more and more as the war began to advance. But Dumbledore hadn't been able to bring himself to talk to Harry Potter just yet. There was something...off about the boy.

"I don't like him," Severus said, taking a sip from a steaming cup. He pulled a sour face, but Dumbledore wasn't sure if it was distaste for the drink, or Harry, himself that caused the reaction.

"That has never been a secret."

"He's as pompous as his father."

"And yet…"

"And nothing of his mother," Severus finished. "Little magical ability."

"Yet good at potions."

"Passibly," Severus conceded. "He's impetuous and foolhardy. A true Gryffindor."

"To tell the truth," Dumbledore said, "having watched him those seven years, I was surprised he was not sorted into Slytherin."

Severus made another face and let the conversation die away.

"As for the horcruxes…"

"It's obvious that someone else knows."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. But who?"

"It must be one of the Dark Lord's servants."

"You've said it was impossible."

"I said improbable. The two are not the same."

"You've softened your opinion, then."

Snape stood abruptly and moved to the window, staring out at the setting sun. "I think it highly unlikely that someone would be able to hide something like this from the Dark Lord. If there is someone that skilled at hiding their thoughts…. Well, then I suppose I would be the last one to know."

Dumbledore looked down at the cup and locket once more. "Indeed."

"Is there a chance it's not one of the Dark Lord's own?"

"Are you asking me if I have slipped in my old age, Severus?" Snape made a sound in the back of his throat and Dumbledore laughed softly. "I assure you, I have been the model of discretion. I have told no one who did not need to know, and I have been very liberal with using memory charms, something I am loathe to do, but feel is necessary."

"It might help if we'd known where these two were hidden before-"

"Before they appeared on my desk, yes," Dumbledore finished.

He used the tip of his wand to nudge the deformed cup, eyeing the crack that had split it down the center. "I have my suspicions about the locket, and was planning to explore in a few weeks. If I am right, then someone discovered the location before us."

"Could it be someone from the light?"

They'd already discussed everyone it might possibly be, time and time again, and come to no conclusion at all. No solution made sense. No one should know about the horcruxes at all, let alone that there were multiple and how to destroy them so effectively.

"I just do not know what to think."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Arell was flitting around the room when Blackheart returned, jumping from one perch to another. The small scroll that was attached to his leg banged against everything he landed upon.

"Been like that since he got back," Sirius pointed out as he wandered into the sitting room, munching on something from a tin. "Won't settle down. Two more scrolls just like it came in earlier this week."

Blackheart sighed and sank down onto one of the sofas, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

"You can say no, you know," Sirius said. "Nobody knows who you are, or even where you are."

"But there are so many who need help," Blackheart said.

"There always are," Sirius said. He set his food down on one of the tables and wrestled for control of the scroll from the dark owl. Arell preferred to have Blackheart remove the scrolls, but, if necessary, he would allow Sirius, or even Dobby, to relieve him of his burden.

"Bung him an owl treat," Blackheart said as he lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Two weeks in France had worn him down. He felt the constant need to be on the go, doing something, even if he wasn't sure what the end result truly was. He might be helping people, and his Gringotts account might be overflowing with gold, but what was the purpose in it all?

"Get on with it, then," Sirius said, and banished the scrolls to him. "At least read them. Maybe something will interest you."

Blackheart sighed, but fumbled for the first scroll, splitting open the seal. He let his eyes trace over the words and then dropped it to his chest.

"Worthless."

"Must be a good one."

"Nothing I'm doing," Blackheart said. "I don't kill people. Well, I mean...I'm not against it, just not… It would have to be…."

"You have your principles," Sirius said firmly. Blackheart knew he was smirking, could practically feel it from across the room.

With a sigh, he opened the second scroll and peered at the writing there. It was familiar, and the signature was one he knew. The case didn't interest him, in itself, but he'd worked with this client before on several occasions and it had always proved...entertaining."

"Must be a good one."

"Missing person," Blackheart murmured.

"Boring."

"Yes," he said, "But I actually like this client."

"Another witch?" Sirius sat up, his expression changing.

"No, but I still like them anyway."

"With the war on, a simple missing persons case should go to the Aurors. It's a bit...below your paygrade."

"Perhaps," said Blackheart, "but I'm still going to do it." He stood, scanning the letter once more, and prepared to get started on the search.

"Is it anything that Padfoot could assist on?"

"Not this time."

It was the standard answer and Blackheart scolded himself for feeling so guilty. It was really for everyone's good that Sirius stayed hidden away. The Ministry would like nothing more than to recapture him and sentence him to the Dementor's Kiss. And then Blackheart would be all alone again.

"Are you at least going to open the other scroll?"

"It'll keep," he called as he bounded up the stairs and to his room.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The coffee house was nondescript, unrecognizable from any other small doorway on the street. Blackheart scanned left and right, watching for anything suspicious before entering. The man he was looking for sat at table in the far corner, his back to the wall, eyes on the windows and doorway. He glanced at Blackheart, but his eyes showed no recognition. And they wouldn't. He'd never seen Blackheart before.

A quick translation spell covered Blackhearts stumbling over what to order, and he waited for his coffee to be prepared.

There were two other people in the shop, both distracted by the newspapers they were reading. They hadn't even looked up when Blackheart walked in. One more charm assured that they wouldn't even notice the far corner as Blackheart took his coffee in that direction.

"Mind if I sit?"

He didn't wait for the man's response, but perched himself in the empty seat. The man stared at him, aghast.

"I'm sorry, do I know-"

"Melnyk told me where to find you."

The man's eyes blinked several times behind his thin glasses, but Blackheart could tell that it would take more than just a name to satisfy him.

"He said you needed this." Blackheart lifted his hand, twirling his fingers to reveal a sphere wrapped in gold tissue paper. Careful not to touch the glass, Blackheart peeled back the paper to show an ornately decorated Remembrall. The white smoke inside as thick as London fog.

The man across from him slowly reached out, letting his fingers ghost along the surface. The smoke inside instantly turned red. His eyes lifted to meet Blackheart's.

"I see."

Blackheart didn't fully understand the reference, but apparently this man did. He turned his hand over and dropped the Remembrall into a waiting hand.

"He wouldn't have sent you if it wasn't important."

"Honestly?" Blackheart said as he sat back in his chair. "Melnyk doesn't know me. But he owed someone I know a favor."

Percy's eyebrows contracted and he closed his fist around the ball before tucking it away in a pocket.

"I don't understand-"

"Your family is concerned," Blackheart said. "They are searching for you."

Percy sighed and shook his head slowly. "I told them I would be away for a time due to Ministry business."

"They're smarter than that," Blackheart said simply.

"There's nothing I can tell them."

They were both quiet for a long time and Blackheart studied the man across from him. He could see echoes of Fred and George Weasley in his features, but there were marked differences, also.

"Yes, spying can be like that."

"I'm not a spy," Percy said as he sipped at his drink. "I'm here officially as a representative of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Right." Blackhorn did his best not to smirk, but he didn't think he was successful.

"I'm sorry that you came all this way," Percy said as he gathered his things and started to stand. "Please tell my family that I am fine and that I will try to write when I can."

"Who are you spying for?"

Percy adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and huffed out a breath through his nose. "I'm sorry, Mr…."

"You may call me Ombragė."

"French?" Percy grunted and peered at Blackheart, as if trying to place his face and name.

"No," Blackheart answered, "but I do occasionally consult with them."

"Italian?"

A smile. "No."

Percy nodded, as if he understood that Blackheart wasn't going to give him a straight answer no matter what question he was asked.

"I'm not sure what Melnyk told you-"

"Nothing at all."

"Good. He should have kept his mouth shut."

"I would have found you either way," Blackheart said.

"Good day, Monsieur Ombragė." Percy put a hat on over his red hair and pulled an overcoat tightly around him.

Blackheart watched him leave the shop and sipped at his coffee a few minutes later. When enough time had passed, he gathered his things, left a few coins scattered on the tabletop and left, also.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Percy was caught between fury and awe. He didn't understand how the man had found him at all, let alone how he'd been able to approach as he had. And who was he, anyway? Mr. Shadowy? He might find the moniker amusing, but Percy did not.

There weren't many people in the world who knew that Percy was in Austria, and none of them should have been able to locate him. If the man had not produced that Remembrall, Percy would have been required to do something drastic. The idea of killing someone was unpleasant but….

He glanced around him, unsure if he'd seen a shadow, or if Monsieur Ombragė's appearance at his table had just unnerved him. To be sure, he cast a quick spell to cover his trail. He would need to leave Austria soon. There was little progress on his mission and he was due to report in with results. He had been entrusted with a vital mission by someone he truly admired and Percy was determined not to let him down.

The street was growing dark, lamps flickering to life, but the entire area seemed deserted. Percy peered at the shuttered windows and wondered just who lived behind them.

A streak of blue light flashed past him, singing the edge of his coat. Percy's wand slid from his wrist holster and he spun, firing off a defensive spell. Two hulking shadows advanced his direction down the alleyway to his left and Percy glanced around, trying to plan an escape route. A barrage of spells began flying and Percy deflected most of them while trying to fire a few of his own off.

"Oof!" He pitched forward as a spell hit him from behind in the shoulder. It felt like a snakebite, but with the intensity of a bludger. Fissures of heat traveled down his arm, making it hard to hold onto his wand. He clamped his fingers even tighter, knowing that he'd be dead if they disarmed him.

"What do you want?"

The wizards-there were four now, prowling in the shadows of the buildings-called out to him in a foreign tongue that he didn't recognize. A flash of green light broke across the sky. The wizard who had used the killing curse dropped to his knees, falling forward onto his face. Percy stared at him with wide eyes.

Another flash of light came from his left and Percy spun, expecting to be cornered on three sides. But another attacker dropped.

Monsieur Ombragė melted from the darkness, spells of light flashing from his wand as if he had casually tossed them.

The attackers dove for cover and began returning fire.

"You followed me!" Percy said. He moved closer to Ombragė and held a shield up to protect them both.

"You're welcome."

Ombragė laughed softly and shot off a spell that shook the ground around them. He never uttered a word and Percy blinked in shock. Silent casting was not common; Percy himself could only manage a few minor spells.

More attackers arrived, summoned by the flashes of magic, and the battle intensified.

"Should we apparate?"

"No fun in that," Ombragė said. "Then we'd never know who they are and what they want."

"I'm fairly sure," Percy said through gritted teeth, "that the Avada Kedavra was a sign of what they want."

"It was weakly cast," the infuriating wizard said. "A simple deflection worked."

Percy huffed and cast a tripping jinx at the closest man. He went down, hitting his face hard on the concrete sidewalk. He was exhausted and his shoulder burned horribly. But Ombragė seemed to be barely breaking a sweat. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with the battle if the smile he wore could be believed.

He opened his mouth to demand answers when a spell hit him from the side, sending him flying. Just before he impacted with the side of the building, Percy decided that he was going to die today.

He woke with a start, expecting to be a prisoner in some hell-hole of a prison. But it was the faded floral canopy of a hotel room bed that he was looking at.

"You won't be able to move for a few more hours."

Ombragė. Percy closed his eyes, both in gratitude and in annoyance.

"I thought I was dead."

"Nearly. But not completely."

He swore he could hear the infernal wizard smiling, even though he couldn't see him just yet.

"Why am I-"

"Immobilized?" Ombragė came into view, grinning. "Mostly for my enjoyment, but it does help when I have to reset a bone now and again. If you were to wake up and flinch, I'd be forced to start all over again. Nasty business, bone setting."

Percy sighed. "So, you're a healer?"

"Not at all. It's just handy to know a few things in my line of work."

"And what line is that? Spy? Assassin?"

"At times," Ombragė said. He sounded so casual about it, as if it was a topic for everyday discussion and Percy decided that perhaps it was for wizards like him.

"How did we get away from those men?" Who were they? What did they want?"

Ombragė sat on the side of the bed, jostling Percy. A sharp pain shot through his right leg and left side. "The killing curse was indeed a good indicator. I'd say that whatever it is you're doing-spying, internationally cooperating-you drew the wrong sort of attention."

Percy pressed his lips together. "I don't know if I can trust you," he said.

"Wise choice. But I promise I'm okay."

"And I'm supposed to take your word for it?"

"Of course not," Ombragė said. He was having fun with this conversation at Percy's expense. "I have a list of references, if you'd like."

"If they're all as reputable as Melnyk then I don't think your references are all that impressive."

"You might be surprised." Ombragė stood and walked out of sight. Percy tried to follow him with his eyes, but his head would not turn.

"It appears that you poked the wrong dragon, my friend. Whatever brings you to Austria has drawn the attention of certain...inglorious parties. Might you be willing to tell me now what you've been up to?"

"Not likely," Percy bit out. A slow tingling burn had begun at his toes and he wanted to cry out, but didn't want to give in if this was some sort of torture that Ombragė was inflicting upon him.

"You are stubborn. Good for you. Unfortunately," Ombragė continued, "I'm a better spy than you are."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I know you've been tracking a certain wand's lore, asking too many questions, seeking too many avenues that have left you open to vulnerabilities."

The burning had risen slowly up his legs and was now settled into his gut now. "I won't tell you anything," he gasped, "not even if you burn me alive."

Ombragė appeared above him, his eyes wide. "Burning? Oh dear, it's not supposed to do that…"

Percy's eyes rolled back in his head as he blacked out.

It wasn't long before his eyes fluttered open once more.

"Sorry about that," Ombragė muttered. "Didn't realize you'd react so strongly to the murtlap. Might want to keep that in mind if you're ever in a situation like this again."

The insane need to laugh bubbled up inside Percy and escaped his lips for just a moment. "If I'm ever in a situation like this again," he repeated. "I'll keep that in mind."

Ombragė seemed amused as well. "Why do you want to know about the Elder Wand?"

"Let's call it curiosity."

"It almost got you killed."

"I don't have the wand, if that's what you think."

"Someone believes you might have it."

"It's a myth," Percy said. He was just now beginning to be able to wiggle his fingers and hoped that whatever this man had done to him was wearing off. "A legend. I was in the area and thought I'd trace the story."

"Everyone's read the book," Ombragė said with a dismissive wave. "Nobody believes that the Hallows are real."

Percy clamped his lips shut and concentrated on moving his extremities.

"Except that you're willing to risk your life to find them."

His arm could just now move up the elbow and he flexed it. Tingles, as if he'd rested far too long on the limb and it was just waking up, erupted and he winced at the sensation.

"That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?"

Ombragė just hummed in response.

"Do you think you could release me?"

"Who wants the Hallows?"

"I'm sure there are many people who might want them. I'm interested on a purely academic level."

Ombragė sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Can we dispense with the lying? I've already told you that I'm a better spy than you. Continuing with this story is only going to keep us here longer."

"If you're a better spy than me," said Percy, "then you would already know the answers to the questions you are asking me."

"Call me impatient. I'd rather just hear you tell me than to have to toss an entire city to discover it. Time is money, my friend."

"I still don't trust you."

"I understand."

"And even if I wanted to tell you-which I don't-how do you know that I haven't made an Unbreakable Vow not to?"

"You'd already be dead." Ombragė stood and began pacing the floor. Percy could twist his neck just enough to see the man in his periphery. "You're not a Death Eater-"

"Are you?"

"-so that means you're working to take down Volde-"

"Don't say that name!" Percy pleaded.

Ombragė stopped pacing and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! It's a name. There's no curse on it."

"There might be."

"There's not."

"But there might-"

"We are not two years old." Ombragė was growing impatient and Percy took a devilish pleasure in causing his face to turn red. "You're trying to distract me."

"Is it working?"

Ombragė peered at him, a sort of respect showing in his eyes. "Head Boy at Hogwarts. I can see why…." He trailed off, as if an idea had just occurred to him. "Hogwarts."

"What?" Percy's pulse raced and he tried to take slow breaths to calm himself. His connection to Hogwarts was tentative, at best. Yes, he'd attended there, but he hadn't been seen with anyone from the school since leaving.

"That meddling old fool." Ombragė seemed both amused and exasperated. "Well, that does it. You're free to go now."

Percy huffed. He couldn't quite move his legs yet, and his arms were still pinned at the shoulders.

Ombragė rustled something on the far side of the room and then stepped closer. "Thank you for the information. I'll pass along your regards to your family. You might think about contacting them, just to stave off any further visits from people like me. They're a rather determined lot."

"Hang on!" Percy roared. "You think you know something-"

"Oh, I know."

Percy's head flopped back on the bed and he took more shallow breaths. Breaking whatever curse Ombragė had put on him was exhausting. "Please. You can't-"

"Don't worry, Mister Weasley. The secret is safe with me."

"Until you find the highest bidder," Percy muttered.

The man looked offended. Percy studied him for a moment, trying to memorize the features, but nothing stuck out as memorable. He was of medium height, medium build, his hair might be dark or...medium-there wasn't enough light in the room to tell-and his eyes...there was something strange about his eyes that Percy couldn't figure out. They looked grey, or blue, or even green at times.

"I do have principles, you know."

"Tell me who you are."

"My name is-"

"Your real name."

"If you were a better spy," Ombragė smirked, "you'd already know."

Percy lay back, completely wiped out from the exchange. He had no idea what he'd said that had tipped Ombragė off to the truth. He couldn't think of anything at all. He had to admit, Ombragė was the better spy. He'd likely suspected part of the truth anyway and Percy's words had simply tipped the scales.

"I'm leaving you my card." A thin bit of stiff parchment was slipped between Percy's fingers. "If you ever need me, this is how you find me."

"A calling card?"

"Of sorts. Use the spell listed there. I will contact you as soon as I am able."

Percy didn't watch him go. He heard the footsteps across the rug, then the hardwood, and the door close. Slowly, he lifted his fingers and peered at the card.

"Turba Malum," he read out loud. "Indeed."

The next day, Percy found the card in his pocket, but couldn't remember where he'd picked it up.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

 **Note:** _Thanks for pointing out the use of the wrong name!_

"Curious," he mumbled. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to discard it. Something told him he might need it one day. He tucked it away in his pocket for another time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Ginny rested her head against the wall in the back room of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, hoping that Harry had not seen her duck through the curtains away from him. He was nothing if not persistent, but Ginny was getting tired of telling him that she wasn't interested in him as more than just an acquaintance. In all honesty, she didn't even want to be his friend, really. That might sound petty, but he was just so...annoying.

He'd seen her coming out of Quality Quidditch Supplies and had trailed her all the way down Diagon Alley, talking to her the entire time. She'd blocked him out after the first time he'd suggested that since they were both free for the evening-his assumption-that they should grab dinner together. He hadn't even listened when she'd told him she was seeing someone. She wasn't, of course, but it sounded better than "get away from me, you giant prat!" yelled at the top of her lungs.

The backroom of the shop was crowded, with boxes piled ceiling high, teetering as she walked between the rows. The faint scent of smoke permeated everything and she was careful not to let her robes touch anything, lest she set off an explosion, or create a tidal wave of jokes to bury her in.

"No customers behind the curtain!"

She smiled at hearing George's voice, and changed direction through the maze to find him.

He was perched on a stool, hunched over a cauldron, stirring slowly, and starring hypnotically ahead.

"But I'm your best customer."

He smiled lazily and Ginny wondered what he was brewing. She lifted on her toes to look into the cauldron, but only got a faceful of hazy pink steam.

"Careful," George muttered. "Never know that that might do to you."

"Is it some sort of love potion?"

But George just pulled a face. "Nah. Just more Wonder Witch products. They all have the same base potion, then we just add the specialized ingredients."

She shrugged a shoulder and poked at the varying substances lying on the counter next to the cauldron.

"You were hoping for something more salacious, weren't you? Love potion, hmm? Got ideas about a certain green-eyed-"

"Git," Ginny growled. "More like an anti-love potion."

George laughed. "Not much call for it, but I'll see what I can do for you."

She sighed and rolled her head from side to side, trying to loosen up the stiff muscles. They'd been testing a new batch of brooms this week and the results were not good. Ginny'd been thrown several times because the twig configuration was off.

"Any word from…."

"Not yet," George said with a sigh.

"You really think this bloke is going to help?"

"He always has before."

"Yeah, but…" Ginny shook her head. She just wasn't sure about the whole situation. "It seems so...mysterious."

"He'll come through," George said firmly. "I have faith."

"How does he usually contact you? Owl?"

"Nah, it's always different. Sometimes he just leaves stuff for us her in the shop, mostly when we've asked for potions ingredients. The time with Bagman he left a note with Gringotts for us. Then another time this House Elf showed up with some cryptic message. Fred and I had to follow the clues, running all over England to find what we needed. I'm sure he was laughing his- Well, he was probably amused watching us run all over."

Ginny thought about that and couldn't help but laugh. "What if it's someone we know?" she speculated. "Wouldn't that be something? We think we know who this person is, but it turns out that they have this whole other secret life, where they're some sort of spy, or something."

George scoffed as he sped up stirring. The potion in the cauldron bubbled and fizzed, sending white smoke that sparkled into the air.

"Hand me that other cauldron, will you?" George said. "This one needs to sit overnight, then we can portion it out.

Once they'd gotten the potion settled into a corner with a cooling charm set on it, Ginny leaned against the workbench.

"You read too many of Mum's old stories," George said. "Nobody could lead a separate life the way that this bloke does."

She scowled at him. "How do you know? Maybe he just does this stuff for you and Forge."

"I guess it's possible," George said, "but I kind of get the impression that he's rather connected.

"A sort of vigilante, you mean?"

"Maybe." He thought about it before shrugging. "Whoever he is, whatever he does, he gets the job done."

They were quiet while George cleaned up the supplies he'd had out.

"Where is Fred?"

"Out."

She took that to mean that he was out with his girlfriend. Ginny wasn't sure why he didn't bring her around more often, other than... Well, there was the Ron thing.

George gave her a knowing look. "He's not very subtle about it, is he?"

"Poor Ron."

"Yeah, well, he'd better figure it out or get over it," George said. "She's going to stick around, this one."

"Fred's going to be the first one of us married," Ginny said with a smirk. "Didn't see that one coming."

"Nobody did."

The fireplace flared and they both turned to see Fred's face floating in the flames. "Meet at the treehouse in thirty minutes." He didn't wait for a response, but disappeared and the flames died down.

"Well...I suppose that means…."

"Likely."

"Let me just tell Verity that we're leaving."

Ginny followed him out of the back room, her mind spinning. What would the information be? How would it be delivered?

She stepped outside the shop, her heart racing. Unfortunately, Harry was still lingering outside, hovering near the entrance to the shop.

"Ginny!"

Damn. It was too late to turn herself invisible.

"Er, hi Harry." She glanced back over her shoulder, wishing that George would hurry up. But he was still talking with Verity. Mooning over her, more like, Ginny thought darkly.

"So, did you change your mind about grabbing dinner? I can tell you all about the important things I'm doing with the Aurors-"

"Remember I told you that I'm seeing someone, Harry?"

He looked perplexed. "Err… Who? Is it someone I know?"

Ginny cast her mind around, trying to think of anyone. Names of famous Quidditch players trailed through her mind, but she couldn't settle on any of them that seemed plausible. She could have met someone testing brooms…

"Neville!" She burst out the name at seeing him exit the Leaky Cauldron. He glanced up at her, forehead wrinkled, pointing at himself.

"Neville?" Harry asked.

Ginny, realizing that she was stuck now, and that she'd dragged poor Neville into her lie, could only nod. "Yes, Neville. Of course, Neville."

She hurried over to him, wrapping her arm through his. "Play along, please?"

"Er, sure, Ginny." Neville's cheeks flushed and he tried to give her a smile.

Harry approached, still looking completely lost. "Neville?"

"Yes, Harry," Ginny said.

"How long...how long have you been dating?"

Neville made a choking sound and Ginny clutched at him tighter. "I know we said we'd keep it quiet, love, but I just couldn't help myself. I hope you can forgive me."

"Er…"

Harry scowled down at the ground and Ginny felt a tiny bit guilty. She'd never really considered that his feelings might be truly genuine. It had always seemed that Harry was interested in her mostly because she was around and available.

"Well, I hope you're happy, Ginny. You too, Neville."

"T-thanks?" Neville's face was completely flushed and he stammered out something that Ginny couldn't make out.

"We are."

George approached the group and greeted them all with curious eyes. "Harry. Neville."

"We've just told him our secret, George," Ginny explained. "How Neville and I have been dating for some time now. We've kept it secret because...well…"

"Oh, yeah. That." George nodded. "Known for yonks. Not good at keeping it quiet, were you old Neville?" He clapped Neville on the back and Neville took a step forward to brace himself. He gave a nervous laugh.

"Yeah. Not a secret at all, really."

Ginny laughed nervously. "Well, we'd better get going George. So good to see you, Sweetie." She reached up and pecked Neville on the cheek, praying he would forgive her one day. "I'll floo you later and we can...talk."

Neville's eyes went wide and he swayed just a little. "Talk. Alright."

George shook both Neville and Harry's hands and then tugged Ginny away. "See you later!"

Ginny leaned into him as they walked to the apparition point. "Poor Neville. He'll never forgive me."

"I think you just gave him the thrill of a lifetime, Gin." George laughed and shook his head.

"I need to talk to him, explain the situation."

"No need. Just keep dating him. He'll be fine. He always fancied you."

Ginny smiled and shook her head. "Come off-"

"It's true. Ron said most of the boys at Hogwarts did."

She sighed. Why couldn't she find one that turned her head?

"I'll owl Neville tonight, after we talk with Fred. Hopefully, he'll understand."

George wasn't sure what to expect when they arrived at the treehouse. Fred and Ron arrived after he and Ginny, and looked just as perplexed as they did.

"Well?" Fred asked.

"What do you mean well?" Ginny said. "You called us here."

Fred scowled. "No. You called me here. Sent your owl."

"I got a message at the Ministry," Ron said, "from George."

"Ginny and I saw you in the floo, Fred."

They all stared at each other before the truth dawned on George. "Clever," he murmured. "That's a new approach."

"I don't get it." Ron scratched his head. "You think…"

"It's him," Fred said. "Has to be."

"Why all the cloak and dagger?" Ginny looked somewhat amused at their situation, but George could tell she was still nervous about this bloke. And, he supposed, he couldn't blame her. She hadn't seen his work before. Fred and George had once spent an entire night trying to come up with a name for this Mystery Man, but had had no success. Nothing encompassed all that they imagined he was like a good name should. They'd been referring to him as "our bloke" ever since, even though it was inadequate, also. Whatever he called himself, he was dead useful.

"Trademark move," Fred said. "That's his thing."

They trailed off and silence settled in the small room.

"So...Ginny's dating Neville now."

Ginny slugged George's arm as Fred laughed and Ron tilted his head to side.

"Neville?"

"There's nothing wrong with Neville," Ginny screeched.

"Personally, I think Neville's a fine choice," said Fred. "A fine, upstanding young man."

"Neville?"

"Oh, you!" Ginny slugged George again and they all began to laugh.

A throat clearing startled them.

"I can come back, if you'd rather."

He was standing in their secret hiding place, wearing a dark cloak that covered his the majority of his face in shadow. George could just make out the edge of his lips and his chin.

"Merlin!" Ron said. "You could have been killed!" George noticed that Ron had pulled his wand and had it leveled at the stranger.

"By you?"

George and Fred both snorted. Ginny had pulled closer to George's side, away from the dark figure, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from him.

Ron growled in frustration and didn't lower his wand. "How do we know you're not here to harm us?"

"If I did, you'd already be dead," Bloke pointed out.

"Were you able to find Percy?" Fred asked.

Bloke and Ron continued to stare at each other before Ginny cleared her throat. "Ron, probably best not to point that at him."

Ron's eyes narrowed and he lowered his arm, but kept a tight grip on his wand. Bloke seemed amused. The corners of his lips turned upward slightly and he turned to address Fred.

"I found him."

"Thank Merlin," Ginny breathed. Her hand had been wrapped around George's arm, but he pried her fingers away, trying to restore feeling there.

"Where?"

"What was he doing?"

"Is he okay?"

Bloke remained still, eerily so, as they peppered him with questions. Finally, he raised his hand and they stilled as quickly as if he'd cast a spell.

"He's safe. He asked me to tell you that, and that he'll be home when he can."

Ginny huffed and scowled, but George noticed her eyes darting to Bloke often, sizing him up. For his part, Bloke's whole body turned toward her. George couldn't see his eyes, but he'd bet that they were focused on Ginny exclusively.

"This is Ginny," George said, "our little sister. And Ron."

"The Auror," Bloke said. "Yes."

George had never considered that Bloke might have done his research about them. He'd always just assumed that they were clients and nothing more.

"Won't you tell us more about Percy?" Ginny pleaded. "We...we need to tell our parents something."

Bloke grimaced and chewed at his lip. "I wish I could, but I can't."

"Won't, you mean," grumbled Ron.

Bloke turned to consider him. "They're two different things. I was precise with my words."

Ron looked like he might argue, but Fred pinched his side.

"Thank you," Ginny said. "It's at least something. Our parents, well...they worry so much. Our family is so spread out, and with the war… Well, you can imagine how they worry about all seven of us."

George coughed to keep in a laugh. "Laying it on a bit thick," he mumbled to her.

Something she'd said must have stuck, though, as Bloke's posture slumped slightly.

"You have to understand the position I'm in," he said. "I can't always reveal everything I know. Sometimes due to my own safety, but sometimes it's the safety of others on the line."

Ginny took half a step forward. "I understand."

George and Fred exchanged a look. Bloke had never been like this with them before. They'd seen him once, even spoken for a moment or two. But this time he seemed completely engaged and...human. It was rather disconcerting, to be honest. Was their little sister charming him?

Bloke's hand twitched at his side and he shuffled. "I need to go. I wish there was more. But...Percy is safe, that's all you need to know now."

"Thank you."

He disappeared just as quietly as he'd come, leaving them all staring at the empty spot in the treehouse.

"What was that?" Ron whispered.

"That was...him."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The fire popped and crackled in the grate, but Blackheart barely noticed the dancing flames and sparks that flew when a log shifted. He stared at the orange blaze, his mind a million miles away.

Sirius was somewhere in the house, reading a book, taking a nap, doing something that Blackheart didn't care to know. Ever since he'd met with the Weasleys in their treehouse, he'd found himself in a bit of a funk. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason he'd felt lonelier than ever the past few days. Seeing the Weasley siblings and the way they interacted with each other had made him question whether he was too isolated, too apart from everything good that the world might offer.

When he'd been young, it had been out of necessity, his segregation. And he'd had a good childhood, growing up knowing that he was loved and protected. But what if the solitary existence he'd adopted as an adult had been less about protecting himself and more about staying in a place where he was comfortable, where he couldn't be emotionally hurt?

"You're staring at that fire like it's done you personally wrong."

Blackheart only grunted when Sirius came into the room.

"Care to talk about it?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "My head is just...full."

Sirius sank into the wingback chair opposite his godson and shifted into a similar pose: slouched against the cushions, legs extended toward the warmth, and brow furrowed.

"Is it wrong to live like I do?" Blackheart asked finally.

"In what way do you mean?"

"Alone. Isolated. Hidden."

Sirius nodded, although Blackheart wasn't watching him. "I see."

"I just…I see others about my age and even with the war on, they're...well, they're living. Am I doing that? Sometimes it doesn't feel like it."

"Well, I probably am not the best one to talk on the subject."

Blackheart finally looked at Sirius and felt a twinge of guilt. They led similar lives, but not with similar motivations. Sirius was almost as much a prisoner here as he had been in Azkaban. Blackheart was free to come and go, as long as he kept his identity hidden.

"Do you think the way I was raised was wrong?"

Sirius winced, thought about it, and then finally shook his head. "It is what it is. We can't change the past. Well, strictly speaking, that's not true. We could, if we had a time turner."

Blackheart rolled his eyes at the bit of humor.

"But...no. I don't think so. You grew up protected, safe. If you'd been left where you were…" He trailed off and shook his head once more, his eyes narrowing into a scowl. "I can't imagine why Dumbledore thought it was a good place to put a child. Those people…" He huffed out a breath. "Well, I'm sure he had his reasons."

Silence descended as they both pondered Blackheart's childhood.

"The way you grew up," Sirius finally said, "may not have been what your parents intended, but you're stronger for it. You're alive. You're safe. You avenged their deaths-at least to a point."

Blackheart scowled at the memory. It was his darkest moment. He'd almost lost himself to the darkness and despair when Wormtail's life had been draining out of the betraying little rat due to Blackheart's spell. It had taken both Dobby and Sirius months to break him out of depression and convince him that the act had been necessary and justified. Not only had Wormtail betrayed James and Lily, but had also helped to resurrect Voldemort. His crimes were clear and it was apparent that the Ministry wasn't doing enough to catch him.

He shook his head and forced the thoughts away. He'd done plenty of questionable things since then, but nothing that came close to taking a life.

"And you've become a person I'm proud to know, honestly."

Blackheart blinked and considered that. He sometimes wondered if he was the good guy, or if he would be considered one of the bad guys. He knew what the Ministry answer would be, but what about the grey area, between black and white?

"Cheers," he mumbled.

"Oh, come off it," Sirius said with a smirk. "You've been like this since...well, since that last job you took. I know there was the whole mess with Dumbledore…."

"I'm still trying to figure what he thinks he's doing," Blackheart said. "Those horcruxes…"

"We could ask him," Sirius said.

Blackheart tilted his head in acknowledgement, but he didn't think it was quite time for that just yet.

"I'm sure it's tied to Voldemort."

"Likely."

"But I just can't decide what the Deathly Hallows have to do with anything. His spy seemed to think they're real."

"I have to admit, I never believed in them. I always thought they were just legend."

"If Dumbledore believes in them-"

"He may just be covering all his bases."

"Possible."

"It's more than that bothering you, though."

Blackheart turned to look at the fire again. He wasn't ready just yet to talk about the feelings of loneliness and what he thought they might mean.

A pop sounded in the hallway and he smiled.

"Master Blackheart?"

"We're in the study, Dobby!"

The house elf hobbled in, his pointed ears bobbing as he shuffled.

"Master!" He wrapped around Blackheart's knees and squeezed tightly. Blackheart laughed and greeted him with a warm embrace.

"We were just talking about you, Dobby." WHen the elf's bulbous eyes went even wider, Sirius held out his hands placatingly. "Only good things, I promise."

"Master Sirius should not tease Dobby."

They both laughed.

Blackheart summoned Dobby's small chair from the corner and it slid to a halt before the fire.

"We were discussing how wonderful Blackheart's childhood was," Sirius said when they were all settled back into their seats.

Dobby's eyes turned adoringly to Blackheart, watering a little. "Dobby did his best. He wasn't sure that it was the right thing, but after watching those nasty Dursleys…" He sighed deeply and his hand twitched, as if it might lift to bash the side of his head. Blackheart had spent many years trying to dislodge the notion that Dobby had to punish himself anytime he thought he'd done something wrong.

"You did the right thing," Blackheart said. He may have his doubts at times, but he would never admit them before Dobby. The elf had done what he thought was best, and it had worked out in the end. As Sirius had said, Blackheart was alive, healthy, and had the ability to be happy, one day.

Dobby blinked away more tears and stared down at his feet as they stuck out the end of his elf-sized chair.

"Master was such a good little baby."

Blackheart's face heated as Sirius hooted. He loved a good baby story and Dobby was all-too willing to spill the details.

"Tell us more about the little Master."

"Sirius," Blackheart warned.

"It's all in good fun."

"For you, maybe."

"Dobby was so worried that he couldn't be a good father. Not that he would ever try to replace Master James-"

"Nobody thinks that, Dobby," Sirius soothed. "As James' best friend, I assure you that he would be nothing but grateful that you raised his son to be such a fine young wizard."

Dobby nodded and sniffled slightly.

"Now, tell us some more about what a cute iddy biddy baby-"

"Padfoot!"

Dobby's expression lit up and he glanced sideways at Blackheart before turning to face Sirius. "Oh, Master was such a cute baby!"

"I remember."

Blackheart crossed his arms over his chest, seething.

"Dobby used to suspend him in mid air to clean his little bottom." Dobby actually giggled and Blackheart groaned.

"Master was a curious baby, as well," Dobby said. "Dobby remembers the time that he crawled off the end of the island in the ocean where we lived and landed right in the cold water. Dobby cannot swim, but he levitated Master right out of the water. Dobby nearly died of a heart attack that day."

Sirius was holding his stomach, laughing hard as he slumped down further in his chair.

While Blackheart was mortified, he couldn't help but smile a tiny bit. He could never be angry at Dobby, no matter how much the elf embarrassed him.

"Are you nearly finished?"

"Nearly, Master Blackheart," Dobby quipped, a sly grin on his face.

"And please stop calling me Master," Blackheart said. "For almost ten years I thought that was my real name." He huffed in annoyance, setting Sirius off once more.

"Yes, Master."

"Cheeky little elf."

He'd barely slept, but he had more energy than he had in a long time. He wasn't sure if it was nervous energy for the mission he was about to undertake, or if it was because he'd finally made a decision and was pursuing something besides the usual cloak and dagger work. Either way, when he'd had the short snippet of dream-the Weasley siblings standing in the treehouse, explaining what Blackheart's life could be like-he woke up convinced that it was time to make a change.

Dobby had insisted on staying the night, even though he normally worked and stayed at Hogwarts, to make dinner and breakfast for both Sirius and Blackheart. He worried about their ability to take care of themselves since Kreacher had died the year before. Blackheart had given up trying to argue with his guardian years ago. Instead, he recognized the need to mother as Dobby's paternal instinct asserting itself, even though Blackheart was long since grown. His enthusiastic spread of foods when Blackheart entered the kitchen were proof of that.

"Dobby, you didn't have to-"

"Do not lecture Dobby, Master," Dobby scolded softly. "Dobby must take care of Master. It is his duty."

Blackheart opened his mouth to continue, but then snapped it shut. Who was he to argue? Instead, he tucked into a hearty breakfast, trying to ignore the way that Dobby hovered and watched him eat with pride.

"And where is Master off to so early?"

"Er...a mission," Blackheart lied. He stuffed another sausage in his mouth rather than grimace. He'd never been good at keeping the truth from Dobby, but this whole thing...it was brand new and Blackheart hadn't even fully wrapped his mind around it yet. How could he explain it properly?

"Another one?" Sirius shuffled into the room, eyes going wide at the food displayed on the long table. "You just got back."

"Unavoidable," Blackheart mumbled.

"This one from the other scroll?" Sirius sat and began pulling platters to him. Dobby hurriedly produced a pot of steaming coffee that Sirius sighed in happiness over.

Blackheart's mind raced. "Er...no. That was...not something I'm going to do."

"Another message came?"

"Er...yes. Early this morning, or rather, in the middle of the night," Blackheart hedged. Well, it was true. He supposed that a dream could be a message, of sorts.

"And what do we do about Dumbledore?"

Blackheart stared down at his plate, moving bits and pieces of food around with the tip of his fork. He still had no idea what to do about the old wizard and what he was up to.

"Dobby will continue to watch him," Dobby said firmly. "And when Master is ready...he can speak with the Headmaster."

Blackheart latched onto the idea. "Yeah," he said. "I think...I think that's best. I need to decide the best course of action first."

Sirius didn't look convinced, but munched his toast thoughtfully. "Sure, sure."

"I'm hoping this mission won't take too long," said Blackheart, even though he wasn't sure how long it would actually take. There was no way to tell because his idea wasn't a cut and dry one, just sort of a whim that felt right.

"Good," Sirius grunted. "I've been thinking that we need to off old Voldy. It's obvious that the Ministry isn't going to do anything about it."

Blackheart choked on his sip of coffee. "You're joking."

"Why not?" Sirius asked with a shrug. "Maybe it's your destiny. You did survive facing him once."

Blackheart pushed his plate away from him and tried to understand what Sirius was getting at. "Yeah, as a baby. Nothing but dumb luck-"

"I don't think so-"

"-and why does that make it my-"

"-I've just been thinking that it might be worth-"

"-just because it happened to turn out well once-"

"-don't know for sure-"

"-you're off your nut!"

Dobby watched this half-conversation, sentences lapping over one another, neither wizard fully listening to each other, back and forth, his fingers twisting together painfully.

"Can Dobby say something?"

They both stopped arguing and stared at the elf as he climbed up onto the table, his Hogwarts tea towel quivering as his body shook.

"Dobby…" He took a shaking breath. "Dobby does not want Master to face the evil wizard. Dobby fears…" He sniffled and twisted even tighter. Blackheart winced, but knew that he could do nothing to stop the elf from it until he'd said what he wanted to say. "But, Dobby thinks that Master Sirius may be right. It is what Dobby has always feared the most."

He finished in a whisper and looked up at Blackheart for just a flash before returning his watery gaze to the table.

Blackheart ran his hand through his hair and decided that right now was not the right time to discuss matters this weighty. He had a mission to accomplish first, to get some answers for himself. He needed to deal with a few personal issues before he could consider the weight of the wizarding world.

"Thank you, Dobby." He regarded both of his companions and gave a quick nod. "I'll think about it. When I return…. Well, I hope to have a few more answers. And then we'll discuss it further."

Sirius looked as if he might say something more, but then swallowed it back and washed the words away with another drink of his coffee.

"Hope things go well."

"Me, too."

Blackheart stood, trying to hide the shaking in his legs, and began to clear the table. He levitated his plate and cup, but they dropped instantly, his own magic overrode by Dobby's.

"Master takes Dobby's job…"

Blackheart smiled and shook his head. It was the same every time. "Just trying to help out, Dobby."

The little elf climbed down off the table and came to stand in front of Blackheart, staring up at him, his little fists clenched and perched on his hips.

"Dobby doesn't get to take care of his Master often," he scolded. "Master should let him and be grateful for it."

"I am!"

"And Master should also take the lunch that Dobby packed for him in the refrigerator."

Blackheart rested his hand upon the top of Dobby's head, an affectionate touch that they'd developed once Blackheart was taller than Dobby. "Thank you, Dobby."

Once outside the house, Blackheart looked back at it fondly as it squeezed and disappeared out of sight. The bustle of a busy London street surrounded him, but he barely noticed it. Instead, his mind was on the elf that had raised him, and his godfather, who wanted the best for him.

"Best be off," he mumbled to himself. He stowed the lunch sack that Dobby prepared in his pocket and pulled his cloak around himself tighter against the crisp April wind. At least it wasn't raining today. With a glance around himself-nobody seemed to even notice him at all-he apparated to the Nimbus Broom Factory, where he hoped to get a job, at least for a little while.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny was running horribly late. She rocketed down the stairs at the Burrow while pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail and shoving her flight goggles on, pushing them to rest on her forehead.

"Did you forget your alarm?"

Her mother was frying bacon at the hob and turned to watch as Ginny snatched her flight robes off the peg by the back door and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

"Slept through," Ginny grumbled. She eyed her father's plate and after receiving a wink, snatched his bacon and shoved it between slices of toast.

"Ginny!"

"It's fine, dear," her father soothed. "I can wait for more."

"Sorry, Mum!" Ginny bit out through a mouthful of food, and then dove out the back door. She apparated mid-stride and arrived at the flight testing location for Nimbus, an old abandoned aircraft hanger in Northamptonshire. From the outside, it looked rusted and in disrepair, but inside it was a state-of-the-art broom testing facility, complete with indoor Quidditch pitch that had actual weather conditions charmed to rain, snow, sleet, or hail. Even the occasional lightning bolt would appear from the ceiling to challenge those testing the brooms.

Ginny was set for a grueling stormy run today and wasn't looking forward to it at all. It was one thing to play Quidditch in the elements, and quite another to pretend to play Quidditch while charmed rain beat down upon you in torrents and lightning flashed overhead. The witches and wizards in charge of the weather were deadly accurate with their charm work and intended you to push the broom faster and further than ever in order to test its abilities properly. It was exhausting work.

"'Lo, Weasley."

Ginny nodded at the swarthy witch who got the flyers ready for their test flights. She was a capable, gruff woman, blunt with her words, but fair with praise. Ginny had always liked Phyllis immensely, because she always knew where she stood with the woman.

"Runnin' a bit late, are we?"

Ginny scowled as she slid her feet into boots and then began plaiting her hair over her shoulder. "Just couldn't seem to wake up this morning, no matter what."

"Well, we all 'ave those days, don't we now." Phyllis held out the harness for Ginny to climb into and helped her tug it into the most uncomfortable position possible. "Don' worry 'bout it, though. The boss willna even notice. 'E's got someone new to torture in there, 'e 'as." She nodded toward the booth at the far end of the field and Ginny squinted toward it. She could see the boss of the testing facility, Mr. Morgan, talking to someone that she didn't know. His back was turned to Ginny, but she could make out his dark hair and broad shoulders.

"New flyer?"

"Probably," Phyllis grunted as she spun Ginny around and laced up the back of the harness. "I've nawt seen 'im fly. Just saw 'im."

Ginny winced at the feel of the safety equipment, but knew it was necessary. "I suppose we do need someone else since Nigel last week." She tried, but failed, to keep in a small laugh.

Phyllis gave her a stern look, but Ginny could see the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. "Naow listen 'ere. I did that 'arness work proper, so I did. It's nawt my fault if the bloke loosened it fer 'is own comfort. Barmy, daft…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

"I know, Phyll," Ginny said. "I trust you. Nigel was always a bit of an odd duck. He hated flying. Not sure why he ever got the job in the first place, honestly."

"Well, 'e could never fly the way you do, Ginny." She gave the safety harness one last tug and pronounced it good with a firm nod.

"Here's hoping this new one is better. I could use a few days off." Ginny pulled her goggles down over her eyes, summoned the first broom to be tested off the racks, and entered the Quidditch pitch. The sky overhead was a beautiful, deep blue, but Ginny could see dark clouds hovering near the edges of the pitch. They'd allow her to get used to the configuration of the broom before they really began throwing things at her.

She wrapped her hands around the shaft, feeling the solid, sturdy construction. This broom was more solid than most of the ones she tested and she studied the tail configuration: full with long, trailing tips. This was a broom not meant for speed, but for endurance. She sighed when she realized they were likely going to really be testing her today.

"Nothing for it," she muttered and mounted the broom before pushing off.

The broom pulled slightly to the left as Ginny put it through the paces, running the normal drills. And there was some sort of drag with the tail configuration that she'd have to tell the construction chaps about once she wrote her report. The weather was just beginning to change when she felt a presence beside her and turned to see the new flyer join her.

He was shifting about on the broom they'd given him-one of the already-tested, training ones-trying to get used to the harness. He glanced at Ginny, gave her a nod of acknowledgement, and then titled into a steep dive.

Ginny watched, in awe, as the flyer ran through a series of furious dives, twists and turns. She admired his determination to learn the different aspects of the pitch they were on, but wondered if he intended to fly this hard every day. If so, he'd be burned out by the end of a month. Perhaps he was just showing off for Mr. Morgan and the rest of the testing team, who stood around the edges of the pitch, behind the enclosing charm, watching.

Once he'd finished his dives, he pulled up even next to Ginny. The wind was picking up and rain was beginning to fall. The new flyer was already soaked, his black hair plastered to his head, blown back by the intensity of his speed. He gave a half-smile to Ginny and turned to face the same direction she was flying, putting them parallel to each other.

"Going to pick up the pace, now." Mr. Morgan's amplified voice sounded around them and Ginny gave a firm nod. The new bloke's grip shifted on his broom and he hunched his shoulders.

A blast of cold, icy air blew at them, slowing their speed considerably. The rain turned to freezing pellets and Ginny gritted her teeth, lowering until she was almost laying on the broom. The storm raged about them as Ginny began the standard testing maneuvers. The new bloke followed her lead, shadowing her every move. She wasn't bothered by it, because she'd trained other flyers before. ANd it had been her own fault for being late today that she hadn't been properly introduced and notified that she would be training someone.

The flyer was good, Ginny had to admit. She'd seen it in his showy moves at the beginning of their flight, but had to admire that he kept up with her pace, despite what was being thrown at them. Nigel would have been grumbling and complaining the entire time. The earpiece that she wore to communicate with additional flyers was silent in her ear. Perhaps Morgan had forgotten to tell the new bloke that he could speak with her.

At the end of the test, Ginny was shivering, even after casting a warming charm to her robes. Her entire body shook and her teeth chattered. SHe was sure it would take her hours, and possibly several doses of Pepper-up Potion, to warm again. Despite that, she realized that her bad mood from earlier had evaporated and she hadn't minded the flying time today. Strange.

The other flyer's teeth were clicking together just as loudly when they landed on the pitch and made their way to the reporting station. She found herself watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Well done!" Mr. Morgan entered the small room, clapping his hands, a pleased smile splitting his face. "That was some damned good flying."

"Thanks," Ginny mumbled through frozen lips. She could barely move and didn't even protest when Phyllis manhandled her to get her safety harness off.

"And you, Harry! I knew you'd be a natural at it."

Ginny's eyes widened at hearing his name. She glanced back over her shoulder, just making sure that it wasn't the Harry that she knew. There were similarities in their looks-dark hair, similar eye shape, but the nose was different, and the jawline, and there was something strange about this man's eyes. They were a sort of grey-green that seemed bizarre. After he peeled his goggles off, he slipped a pair of thin glasses on, he glanced at Ginny and then quickly away.

Ginny felt her heart pound and a silly, dropping feeling enveloped her stomach. He seemed...familiar, even though she was sure she'd never met him before. There was something about his mannerism, the way he held himself, that reminded her of someone, she just couldn't remember who.

Phyllis jarred her back to reality with a sharp tug on a strap. "Och, sorry."

"S'fine."

"Yer near frozen through, lass," Phyllis said with a chuckle. "Grab yerself a hot cocoa, or better yet, a dram o' whisky."

Ginny laughed and then clamped her mouth shut when she realized that it sounded slightly hysterical. Her heart was still pounding and she swore she could feel Harry just a few feet behind her.

"Come on, you two," Morgan said through an face-splitting smile. "Let's get you warmed up and you can officially meet."

Harry allowed Ginny to exit the little room first, gesturing toward the door. His cheeks were red, but she wasn't sure if it was just in reaction to the cold, or if he was blushing. Her own face felt hot and chaffed from the wind.

"Ginny Weasley," she said, holding out her hand when they'd entered the reporting room. The broomsmiths were seated in cubicles around the outside walls, each turned to face their work stations where brooms were crafted and charmed in sequences. Every Nimbus broom was handcrafted, which allowed for the precision in the brand. Morgan was going around the room now, gathering the broomsmiths away from their tasks so they could hear Ginny's report.

"Harry...er, Harry Kilduff." His hands were freezing and Ginny realized that he hadn't been wearing gloves. She'd have to mention it to him. Surprising that it had escaped Phyllis' keen eye.

"Nice to meet you. Morgan's right," she said quietly. "You do fly well."

"I've nothing on you," he said, his cheeks going even pinker. "That was…" He blew out a breath and shook his head. "You've been doing this for awhile. I can tell."

Ginny's own cheeks flamed. "Not quite a year. I got hired right out of Hogwarts. You...you didn't attend, did you? I don't remember you." Perhaps he was older, Ginny thought, but he looked young.

"Er, no. I didn't, didn't grow up around here. We...traveled." He made a strange sort of face and Ginny wondered at the story behind his life. She was just about to ask when Morgan clapped his hands again, drawing their attention.

"Now, Ginny, give us the report on the Nimbus work model." All eyes turned toward her and Ginny forced herself to turn away from Harry and the feel of his hand in hers. They hadn't stopped shaking hands and realized when everyone gave a sort of awkward chuckle.

"Yes, well…" She stammered and tucked her hands behind her back, clenching them tightly. "The broom is heavy and rather clunky, but with the intent of being a work broom…"

HPHPHPHPHPHP

The letter shook slightly in his hands as he stared at the words. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what it all meant.

"Alright, mate?"

Harry looked up from the parchment at Ron, and then around at the Aurors milling about inside the locker room.

"Alright."

Ron sat on the bench next to him and looked Harry up and down once more. "You're looking a little pale. Everything okay?" He motioned to the letter and Harry tucked it away in his inside robe pocket.

"Fine," he bit out. Instantly, he felt bad. Ron hadn't done anything, after all, other than ask after him. "I just…" He glanced around again and seeing that nobody was paying them any mind, leaned in closer to his friend. "I've been summoned to the Headmaster's office."

Ron gaped at him and then blinked several times. "What? Dumbledore?"

Harry nodded.

"What did you do?" A sly smile spread over Ron's face. "Get into some of the Twin's products, did you? Send something up to old hog warty Hogwarts?"

Harry scowled. "No." He had no idea what Dumbledore meant by requesting that he visit the castle. He'd only been in the Headmaster's office once, during his first year, when he and Ron had gotten into trouble by throwing dumgbombs at the Slytherins during a Quidditch match. The experience hadn't been pleasant, with Snape seething at them, and Harry had never wished to repeat it, so he'd kept his nose clean during the remainder of his years. Relatively, anyway.

"I have no idea what he wants."

Ron went silent and then turned to Harry. "You don't reckon it's about...You-Know-Who, do you?"

"Why would it be?" Harry asked. "I mean, I know that some people think, with this and all," he pointed to his scar, "that I'm somehow connected with him. But I don't think so."

His friend glanced up to the scar, something Harry was used to happening all the time, and then shrugged. "Maybe so. I just thought...well, you read that report the other day. The Death mark hovering over that house in Suffolk." He shuddered and began to unlace his boots.

"Yeah."

"Nothing for it but to go, I guess."

"Yeah."

"Want me to come?"

Irritation bubbled up inside Harry. Did Ron think he couldn't take care of himself? Harry was an Auror, the same as Ron. They'd had the same training, even though Harry was stuck standing guard at Gringotts. Dead boring, but at least he hadn't been chucked from the program.

"No. I'll be fine." He stood up swiftly and shucked his Auror robes, stuffing them into his locker.

Ron was quiet while they both changed. "Come by the Burrow later," he said. "We'll grab a pint."

Harry hesitated and then shook his head. "Ginny doesn't want me there. She really hates me."

"She doesn't," Ron said, but it sounded weak to Harry.

"She's dating Neville, anyway," said Harry. THe scene in Diagon Alley flashed in his mind. It didn't make much sense that Ginny would be dating someone like Neville Longbottom, not when she could be with someone like Harry. Neville spent his days digging around in the dirt, talking to his plants, and being...Neville. Harry just didn't understand.

Ron's eyes went wide and then he nodded jerkily. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, she is. Sometimes I forget."

"I'll talk to you later." Harry closed his locker and pulled his black robes over his shoulders, transferring Dumbledore's letter to his pocket. He wasn't looking forward to going, but a summons from someone like the Headmaster wasn't something you could ignore.

"I realize that this comes as somewhat of a shock."

Harry jerked his head up and down, wondering what his expression was. Inside, he felt nothing but horror and revulsion. He was the one who was prophesied to face Voldemort? And only one of them would come out alive?

"Are you asking me to...:"

Dumbledore's face softened into a look of pity that made Harry hate him for a moment. "We always have our choices, Mr. Potter."

"What if I don't want to fight him?"

"That is your choice."

Panic welled up and Harry stood, pacing and running his hand through his hair. He'd been letting it grow long and even though Ron made fun of him for it, Harry liked that it fell down the back of his neck now.

"I can't… You can't…" He huffed and felt a burning sensation at the back of his eyes that horrified him even more. He would not break down. He was a twenty year-old wizard, after all, and crying was not acceptable.

"Prophecy can be a tricky thing." Dumbledore looked older, somehow, as he slumped slightly in his chair. "It's possible to misinterpret, or even misunderstand our own interpretations. In the end, it's only in hindsight that one can often see the clues that lead to an understanding. Divination is...unpredictable."

"So, you're saying that it might be wrong?" Harry asked. "That it might not be me at all."

"Anything is possible, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, "but I believe in this case that the prophecy speaks of you."

Harry's mind reeled. He closed his eyes against it and wished it away, but no matter how much he wanted it to leave his brain, it would not. The words were now embedded. Harry Potter was the one who would face Vold-Vold…You-Know-Who.

"I need...I need some time," he stammered. "I need to think about this, to decide…"

"Of course. My door is always open should you need to talk."

Harry stood and stumbled toward the door.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, causing Harry to turn and look over his shoulder. "I would be careful who you share this information with. It is not public knowledge. I fear, if it were, that the increased pressure on you would be immense."

Harry felt a shiver all the way down to his toes and nodded jerkily. "I...I will, Professor."

"That could have gone better."

Albus Dumbledore shook his head slowly as he stared at the empty doorway. The grinding of the circular staircase had faded out and he pictured Harry Potter running through the castle in an attempt to escape his future.

"Severus…"

Snape slid into the chair that Harry had just vacated and shrugged slightly. "What? The boy is unprepared, even unwilling-"

"Did you expect him to jump right up and proclaim his desire to rid the world of Voldemort, Severus?"

Snape's jaw tightened and he looked away from the Headmaster. "I expected that his sorting into Gryffindor would have meant something."

Dumbledore smiled. "You know my feelings about the Sorting Hat, Professor."

"Yes."

They both turned and looked at the hat, slumped in its alcove, waiting to be necessary for another class in the Fall.

"Presence of one particular trait over and above others does not mean that others do not exist, even in equal measure."

"Yes."

Snape said it again, but Dumbledore wasn't so sure he meant it. Severus was a true believer in the idea that nature triumphed over nurture, every time. He missed the irony of the fact that he was likely one of the bravest Slytherins there had ever been. Or, perhaps he recognized it and despised it enough to pretend he didn't.

"You believe he will accept his fate?"

Dumbledore's forehead creased as he thought about Harry's reaction. He'd hoped for better, even though he hadn't been completely surprised. Harry Potter was...a mystery. He seemed to be lacking the qualities that Dumbledore assumed would have developed through both nature and nurture. Not for the first time, he silently questioned his decision to place Harry with the Dursleys. He may have been protected by blood, but that did not mean he'd been protected from other dangers.

"I do not know," he admitted. "I hope so. I will continue to work with him."

"But the time is so short."

"I am well aware of the timetable, Severus." The weight of their task pressed down on him even heavier. "Three more…"

Snape's countenance darkened as he nodded slowly. "Three. The ring, the diadem, and the snake."

Fawkes gave a mournful hoot from his perch and Dumbledore turned to regard him. "Well, what do you think, Fawkes? Will Mr. Potter be up to the task?" But the bird did not answer, only blinked back at him.

"Not a vote of confidence, then."

Dumbledore thought about scolding Snape once more, but what could he say? Instead, he turned to look out the window as the sun set, casting rays of golden light through a hazy horizon.

"We shall see. We shall see."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Dobby appeared in the kitchen, gave a scowl to the stack of dishes lying in the sink, and shuffled out to find Sirius. With a second thought, he cringed and snapped his fingers, knowing that the dishes would soon be washed. No matter how much Sirius scolded him, Dobby just couldn't let him and Master live that way.

"Master Sirius, you called?"

He found Sirius in the library, a stack of spell books open in front of him, and his hair hanging loose around his shoulders. He looked as if he had been agitated for some time. Balls of parchment littered the floor around him, and several quills had been discarded, leaving splotches of ink on the rug. Dobby cleaned them up quickly and waited for Sirius to growl at him.

"Yes, I did. I need you to do something for me, Dobby."

Dobby's eyes widened as he considered the long list of things that Sirius had asked of him over the years. Some of there were illegal-which Dobby was not necessarily opposed to-and many of them were impossible.

"Master Sirius…"

"Don't get your tea towel in a bunch," Sirius said. "It's nothing horrible. I just need you to figure out what Blackheart is up to. He's been...cagey about this new assignment, even more so than usual. I never even saw the owl come, and even though he promised it would be quick, it's been nearly three weeks now." Sirius scowled and slumped back in his chair. Dobby moved closer and climbed up onto the desk he'd been working on, standing and looking down at Sirius.

"And he's been...happy."

Dobby felt a well of pity for Sirius and nodded his head. "Yes, Master seems...happy, lately." Even he had noticed the change in Blackheart, even if he wasn't sure what it meant.

"Yes," SIrius barked out. "You've seen it. This one...it's different. I need you to track him, Dobby. FIgure out where he goes every day. FIgure out what he's doing and why this is changing him."

Dobby's little shoulders slumped and he began to wring his hands until his fingers ached. "Master Sirius…"

"Don't tell me you won't do it!" Sirius slid back in his chair, making it scrape along the hardwood. "You know it's for his own good."

"Yes, but Master Sirius…"

"It's to protect us all…"

"Yes, but…"

Sirius glared at him, coming close and looming over Dobby. But Dobby was unafraid. He'd had worse masters before, ones that had beaten him if he didn't move fast enough, or if he didn't stay hidden well enough. Sirius may be a scary wizard, but Dobby knew he would never hurt a house elf.

"I'm asking you as your Master, Dobby."

A sly smile spread over the elf's face. "Master Sirius is not Dobby's master. Dobby is a free elf."

Sirius' shoulders fell and he leaned heavily on the desk. "Please?"

"No," Dobby said simply. "Besides, Master Blackheart already forbade it."

Sirius' dark eyes flashed in anger. "And you'll listen to him?"

"Of course, Master Sirius," said Dobby. "Why would I not?"

"But you're a free elf."

"Dobby does not listen to Master Blackheart because he is Dobby's master, but because he is Dobby's friend."

"Am I not your friend, also, Dobby?"

Dobby's heart pounded in his chest. Sirius was a friend, but Master was so much more. They'd grown up together, really, Master from a child, and Dobby from a naive, young elf who was just trying to do the right thing.

"Master Sirius is a friend, yes," Dobby said. "But…"

Sirius sighed and threw up his hands. "Fine. Tell me about what Dumbledore has been up to."

A wave of relief overcame Dobby as he sat down on the desk, swinging his legs back and forth. "Well, Harry Potter came to see the Headmaster just the other day. Dobby was not able to get into the office to hear the conversation, but the portraits are talking. There is a prophecy…"

Blackheart found himself whistling as he slung his broom over his shoulder and walked back across the pitch. Ginny had landed on the far side and was examining the tail section of the broom she'd been flying. He'd called out to her when she'd spun downward sharply before landing, but Ginny had waved him off, an annoyed look on her face. Thankfully, after several weeks of flying together, Blackheart knew that she was not frustrated with him, just with the new model she'd been testing.

He glanced over his shoulder once more to see her tugging at various twigs in the configuration, muttering to herself. A wider smile spread across his face and he couldn't help but chuckle a little. This job had certainly been an adventure. He'd taken it more out of curiosity about the youngest Weasley than anything. He'd read her background, the detailed-and supposedly sealed file-stored in the Ministry of her possession by Tom Riddle and escape from the Chamber of Secrets after fighting off the shadow and being rescued by Fawkes. He'd investigated all of the Weasleys in gathering background for his various cases with them, but Ginny hadn't been more than a mention until this last one when he'd dug a little deeper.

And now he felt like he was hooked. Spending almost every day with her doing something that he loved anyway, well, that was just icing on Blackheart's cake.

He found himself looking forward to having a regular schedule, something he'd hated in the past. Even getting up early didn't bother him, despite a comfortable bed. Sirius was almost beside himself with Blackheart's mysterious disappearances, but Blackheart had been holding out on his godfather. He couldn't say just why he felt it necessary to keep the secret, just that he wasn't ready to share whatever this was-friendship or more-that was developing between he and Ginny.

And Blackheart was also the first to admit that he was complete pants with girls. He had no idea what he was doing, but with Ginny it just seemed…natural.

"Complete cock up," Ginny grumbled as she came up beside him in the reporting station. "They've completely bolluxed this one up. Yours?"

Blackheart looked down at the broom in his hand. "It's okay. A bit sluggish on takeoff, and it can't corner worth shite."

Ginny smirked at his obscenity and they shared a smile. These stolen moments were coming to mean everything to Blackheart and he sighed, knowing that they were numbered. Other tasks were looming and he was going to have to find a better balance between the two worlds he was living in. The problem was, the one he usually resided in wasn't the one he wanted anymore.

"Let's really let them have it," Ginny whispered as the Broomsmiths readied for the reports. "No holding back."

Blackheart grinned and motioned for Ginny to go first.

"You complete idiots!" Ginny roared. "You could have killed me!" She shook the broom in their direction and Blackheart had to clamp down on his lips to keep from laughing as the Broomsmiths tripped all over themselves apologizing and taking notes as she laid out everything they'd done wrong on the construction and layering of the charms.

An hour later, Blackheart stood outside the hangar and watched a dark set of clouds roll in. He should be apparating home to have dinner with Sirius, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave yet. It was becoming a sort of habit to meet with Ginny after their shift and exchange a few words before they parted for the day. However, their meetings were growing longer and longer every day.

"That was too much fun." Ginny joined him, pulling her cloak tighter to her when she glanced at the storm coming. "But you...you weren't mean at all!"

Blackheart laughed. "I couldn't be! You had them all jumping through hoops to please you. It was all I could do to keep a straight face."

Ginny grinned and nudged his shoulder. "You need to make them respect you, otherwise they'll do what they pulled with me today. Not that they were trying to make me fall, but they sometimes slack off, or don't give it their all."

"Have you fallen often?"

"Not really. Mostly, it's just little defects in the charms that only come out when we're really putting the brooms through their paces."

"Well, they certainly respect you now."

"You'll have to keep practicing. Next time they do shite work, call them on it. Really let them have it."

Blackheart laughed and nodded his head. A stinging raindrop splashed on his cheek and he sighed. "Guess we should-"

"Want to get a pint?"

His eyes went wide and he tried to decide what this meant. Was Ginny Weasley asking him out on a date, or was this just a friendship drink together? She seemed to flirt with him a lot, but maybe that's how she was with everyone. He hadn't seen her outside of work, and she certainly did not flirt with the Broomsmiths that he'd seen.

"Er…"

Ginny's face reddened and she magiced an umbrella over herself. "We don't have to. I mean, if you've got other plans-"

"Not at all," Blackheart said. "I...I'd like that."

Her smile reappeared and Blackheart's chest tightened. "The Quiet Witch, then? You know where it is?"

Blackheart nodded and watched as Ginny gave another shy smile and apparated away. He felt he could roar at the heavens and probably be heard all the way in Scotland with the way he felt. With a shake of his head, Blackheart apparated to the pub.

"Do you come here often?"

Ginny laughed as Harry's face reddened. "I didn't...I mean… Not like that. I just…"

"Sometimes," she said, putting him out of his misery. "With my brothers. Sometimes my dad will meet us, too."

"But not your mother." Harry gave a thoughtful look and Ginny wondered, not for the first time, what on earth he was thinking about. He was the strangest wizard she'd ever met. He almost acted like he'd never been around a witch, at times, but then he'd forget himself once they got talking and seem like they'd always known each other.

"Mum," Ginny sighed and then shook her head. "She doesn't drink often, and never when she's out in public. She gets a bit...loud. I think we've all decided that it's best if she keeps her spirits at home."

Harry smiled at her description. "The way you talk about your family…. It makes me think I already know them."

"You should meet them," Ginny said. "I think they'd like you." She'd been toying with the idea of asking him out since the day they met at work, but was worried what he might think about the prospect of mixing work and pleasure, so she'd hesitated. Today's invitation was a sort of testing of the waters, if you will. If it turned out well, Ginny was determined to ask him out for real. She just hoped that he'd take the hint and ask her first.

"I've never met anyone's family," he said, almost to himself.

"Well, if you ever do meet mine," Ginny said. "Be warned. The twins will do everything they can to trick you. Never, and I mean never, accept anything they hand you. And Ron, well, just talk about brooms and you'll be fine with him. Do you know anything about dragons?"

Harry sipped from his pint, leaving a faint line of foam on his upper lip that made Ginny smile. "Dragons? Er...I mean, just what you read in books, I suppose." He tugged at the collar of his robes and ruffled his hair as his eyes darted away. Ginny wondered if maybe he had a fascination with the beasts as much as Charlie did and was just trying to hide it, thinking she might judge him as strange.

"Well, Charlie is nuts about them," she continued. "He can talk all day and will, if you don't distract him. Quidditch is the key to get him off the topic."

"And your oldest brother?" Harry asked. "What...what about him?"

"Oh, Bill's fine," Ginny said with a dismissing wave. "He's rarely home, and I've got him wrapped around my little finger when he is."

Harry smirked and his tongue darted out to wipe away the foam. "I have no doubt about that."

Ginny felt her cheeks flush. She was pleased that he seemed to be flirting back with her, something he rarely did. It was progress, she decided.

"You have another, right?"

"Percy."

"What's he like?"

"He's the most uptight, stick-in-the-mud person you'll ever meet."

Harry's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"But I still love the prat." Ginny shook her head and ran her fingers along the glass that held her butterbeer. "We're so different, he and I. I just...never really got him, I suppose. He's not around much anymore. I guess he took some sort of job promotion with the Ministry that has him traveling all over Europe, or something. He didn't contact anyone for awhile, about sent Mum into heart failure. Then, as if nothing had ever happened, he sent an owl one day, going on about his job as if it was nothing new. Prat."

Harry nodded thoughtfully and smiled. "They all sound wonderful."

"They are." She was about to say more when Harry froze and looked down at the watch strapped to his wrist. Ginny hadn't seen it closely, but it appeared to have all sorts of dials and wheels hidden in the face.

"Damn."

"You have to go?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," GInny said. "I've kept you longer than normal. I just thought…"

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "No, it's not… It's not that, I promise. I just...I have to take care of something tonight and I completely forgot. Good job I set a reminder." He tapped the tip of his wand on the watch and a little puff of red smoke appeared and then faded.

"I wanted to come."

He sounded so strong, so certain, that it made Ginny's heart pound.

"Do you-"

"Would you go out with me, Ginny?" he asked. "Properly, I mean."

"Yes."

Harry's smile nearly blinded her in it's intensity. "Okay."

"Okay."

He stood and took half a step away from the table before turning on his heel and leaning down, pressing his lips onto hers for the briefest second. They both seemed startled, but then Ginny grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him down again, meeting him in a firmer kiss.

"I...I'll think of someplace to go," he stammered after they broke the kiss.

"Okay."

She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him there, but thought he'd probably change his mind if she was so bold. Instead, she let the lapels of his robes slip away and watched him go, liking that he seemed just as dazed as she felt.

"It looks as if I've been replaced."

Ginny glanced up to see Neville looking shyly at her. He was sitting at a table next to hers, with a stack of books in front of him. She hadn't even noticed him there.

"Oh, Neville!" She gasped and put her hand over her mouth "I didn't mean to…"

But Neville just shook his head. "I got your message before. I can't say that I wasn't surprised in Diagon Alley that day."

"I shouldn't have done it." Ginny grabbed her drink and slid into the seat across from him. "I just...I panicked."

Neville nodded. "I know. I saw Harry coming, and I, well, I know he's been rather…determined."

"That's one way to put it."

"I can't say I blame him, but it looks like you've found someone that you do like."

Ginny laughed and shook her head. "Honestly, Neville, I have no idea what I'm doing. This one...he's completely different. And I really don't know that much about him. He's pretty private. We work together, and when we get to talking…."

"As long as he treats you well."

"So far, so good." They shared a smile and Neville lifted his drink toward hers.

"To new beginnings."

"Cheers."

Blackheart appeared in the middle of the forest, the usual meeting place. His mind was still back in the pub, though, and he was fighting to keep his mind focused on where it should be.

"Master!"

He looked up to see Dobby's bright eyes in the bushes. "Sorry, I'm late," he whispered. "Got caught up with something."

Dobby gave him a knowing look and a shake of his head. "Master needs to have his wits about him tonight. The Headmaster is definitely traveling soon."

Blackheart nodded and tried to shake away the feeling of euphoria and focus on the task at hand. There was too much riding on tonight's mission to have his mind somewhere else, no matter if it was someplace he'd much rather be.

"Master Sirius is worried about Master."

"I know." He tucked the few items that Dobby was handing him into the pockets of his robes, transfiguring them into all black, and finally adding the thick traveling cloak that levitated next to them.

"He tried to trick Dobby into telling him Master's secrets."

Blackheart smirked. "I hope you told him to mind his own business, Dobby."

Dobby nodded so strongly that his ears flapped up and down. "Oh yes, Master. Dobby told him none of Master's secrets."

Blackheart peered at the elf, wondering just how much Dobby knew. He'd been secretive with everyone, but Dobby had a knack for finding all sorts of things out that he shouldn't know.

Dobby opened his mouth to say more, and then closed it quickly, tilting his head as he listened. Through the trees came two voices that Blackheart recognized.

"I don't like it, Perfessor. I jus' don't like it."

Hagrid's lumbering steps nearly shook the ground and Blackheart melted into the shadows as the two wizards came into a sort of clearing.

"I know, Hagrid. Thank you for offering to accompany me, but I will be quite fine, I assure you."

Dumbledore patted the half-giant on the arm and readied himself to apparate. At the last second, Blackheart sent a low-lying spell that wrapped around Dumbledore's feet for less than half a second before fading into nothing. The Headmaster of Hogwarts disapparated, leaving Hagrid staring into the darkness.

Blackheart looked at the watch on his wrist, noting the faint trace of blue spell residue traveling.

"Be safe, Master," Dobby whispered as Blackheart disapparated, as well. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The town of Little Hangleton was asleep when Blackheart appeared on a lonely country road. He'd purposely stayed far from where Dumbledore appeared, but close enough that he could track the wizard as he blended into the shadows. Only a few lights flickered in windows in the main part of the town, but Blackheart wasn't headed there. On a hillside not far outside of town, Dumbledore was moving toward a rundown, abandoned house that seemed mostly caved in. Blackheart scanned the horizon, seeing a large, black house looming in the trees, and the outlines of a shadowy graveyard.

Blackheart shivered, not from the cold, but from the sinister feeling of the place. Whatever this place was, there was dark magic at work.

Dumbledore disappeared inside the house, which was really more of a shack, Blackheart thought. He crept closer, making sure to hide himself. A low glow shone through the broken window panes and he watched as the aged wizard searched for whatever it was he was looking for. Blackheart fought the urge to simply ask. For now, he was supposed to just be observing, at least that's what he'd promised Sirius when Dobby had reported the upcoming adventure the Headmaster was planning.

"You may as well come in and help me."

Blackheart froze, his pounding heart climbing into his throat. He waited half a minute, measuring the risks, before stepping into the house. Dumbledore seemed to pay him no heed and didn't even turn to look at him.

"Impressive spell work," Dumbledore said. "Not many could place a tracking spell on my movements and have it reach so far."

"You knew?"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled in the darkness. "Not at first, I admit. It took me until I was entering the house to feel it."

Blackheart thought about that and then shrugged it away. He'd followed wizards before in the same way without them ever detecting the spell, but Dumbledore was no ordinary wizard.

"Are you planning to help?"

"Do you need it?"

"Not really."

"Then why ask?"

"Why follow me?"

"Call it curiosity. You've been rather busy lately, with spies in various places looking into curious things. I thought I would see for myself what you might be up to."

"Is that all?"

"Call it that for now."

"You are an extraordinary wizard, Mr…."

"Call me Blackheart."

Dumbledore thought on that for a moment before nodding and turning back to his task. "We are searching for-"

"A horcrux," Blackheart said, "or so I assumed."

The Headmaster seemed to flinch and peered at Blackheart. "So, it was you."

Blackheart slid his wand out of his pocket and began sweeping for magical signatures. A sharp, but quick pain shot to his fingertips as he passed over one section of floorboards that Dumbledore had already walked over.

"I believe this might be the place."

"How did you-" But rather than continue, Dumbledore just shook his head. "Stand back. There will be dark spells protecting it."

"I can take care of those, also," Blackheart said confidently.

"Do not be so bold. This dark magic-"

"Does not take into account my magic." He vanished the section of floor, revealing a golden glowing bundle. There were several signatures of dark magic and Blackheart shook his head as he worked to remove them. He felt brushes of something pushing at his mind, visions of his dead family coming to his mind, if only briefly.

Dumbledore looked at him once more, watching with intense, piercing eyes. "Indeed."

Sweat ran down the back of Blackhearts neck as he worked. This horcrux was different than the other two.

"How did you discover the others?"

Blackheart's arm shook as he worked to remove the magic protecting the object. "Dumb luck on the locket," he admitted. "The cup...was a discovery while I worked on another issue."

"Then you are the one from the rumors."

He looked up at the Headmaster, wondering. There had always been rumors surrounding his work and who he really was, if he even existed.

"Perhaps."

They fell silent. Just as the dark magic fell away, Blackheart felt a strong brush of something in his mind, a longing that was so deep, so poignant that he knew he had to have the item. He lifted the cloth covering it and saw a ring there on the floor. Before he could reach out for it, however, Dumbledore's fingers closed around it.

"Don't-"

In an instant, a flash of light shone and Dumbledore fell to the ground, arching against the magic. The ring was slipped onto the tip of his finger.

Blackheart cursed and cast a spell, sealing a bubble around the hand and the horcrux. "Stupid fool."

Dumbledore panted as he lay on the floor. "Yes. I suppose that I am." Slowly, he sat up, looking at his hand encased in the spell. Through it, they could both see the tip of his finger turning dark, the skin going grey.

"How did you know?"

"I felt it."

"I could not resist. The idea of seeing them again-"

Blackheart nodded. "A devilish bit of spellwork, that."

Dumbledore only nodded and took a moment to compose himself. "The spell will continue. It will kill me."

"No. My magic has stopped it. Any cursebreaker worth his magic will be able to remove it and stop the spread. You may lose the finger, or possibly the hand, but you will not die."

"Tell me who you are."

"I have already said-"

"Who you really are."

"I am many people."

"You will not tell me."

"Not right now."

The Headmaster seemed to think about that for a moment before shaking his head. "You are not underage."

"No."

"Then how did-"

"You will be alright to get back to the castle?"

"Indeed."

"I can send a cursebreaker to you, if needed."

"I believe that I may-"

"Your potions master will not be enough. Not if you wish to save your life." Blackheart stood and brushed dust away from his robes. He summoned his wand, which had been knocked away from him in the scuffle. "I will send someone. He owes me a favor. It may be an hour or so before he arrives."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly, but stood, careful not to disturb the bubble. "This will hold that long."

"Indefinitely."

"You are an impressive, wizard, Mr. Blackheart. I hope we will meet again."

Blackheart snapped his fingers and produced a thin card. "If you need help, use this spell. Don't do something so foolish on your own again."

Dumbledore let out a low laugh. "You're the third to call me a fool tonight, you know."

"Twice wasn't enough?" He shook his head, exhaustion creeping in. He felt like he could sleep for three days.

"Apparently not."

Blackheart nodded and turned to go. Just before he left the house, he paused. "How many more?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Two more now." There was a hesitation in his voice and Blackheart knew there was more than he wasn't saying, but tonight wasn't the time for another confrontation. Instead, he nodded and apparated to London.

Just before collapsing into his bed, he sent Arell to find Bill Weasley with a summons to Hogwarts Castle.

"You wouldn't want to tell me what happened, would you?"

Dumbledore looked up at Bill Weasley, caught by those clear blue eyes, and blinked. "I would not."

Bill had successfully removed the bubble charm-something they'd both been marveling over for some time while he worked-and had just finished removing the dark curse, leaving only a faint grey tinge to the top part of the Headmaster's left ring finger. They were both sweating, hearts racing.

"It's not often I work with magic like this," Bill mused, his fang earring dangling. Severus stood in the corner, a goblet of something that steamed and hissed in his hand. Professor McGonagall had been coming and going, tsking and shaking her head each time she entered with supplies that either Severus or Bill needed. She'd even called for a plate of sandwiches to appear. They sat on the corner of the desk, untouched, even though Bill eyed them occasionally.

Dumbledore was not in the mood for their judgements or speculation about what he'd been through and escaped. His mind hadn't stopped reeling since returning from the Gaunt house.

What was the curse used?

Was the ring destroyed forever?

Ariana…

Who was this 'Blackheart'?

Why was he always turning up when Albus least expected him?

What had he done for Bill Weasley that the cursebreaker would drop everything he was doing and depart immediately for Hogwarts?

The ring…

Ariana…

So many thoughts clouded his mind that he longed for peace and quiet to remove his Pensieve and sort through them.

"You're lucky I was in England," Bill said as he leaned on the desk and finally snatched a sandwich, taking a large bite. "If I'd been on the continent…"

"Yes, lucky indeed," Severus said as he stepped forward, eyed the Headmaster's hand, and the offered the potion.

"It was lucky that Mr. Blackheart knew where to find you."

Bill's eyebrows compressed and his forehead creased. "Oh, you mean Phoenix. Yes, he and I...well, we've been through a few scrapes. I owed him one. Several, if I'm honest."

Dumbledore nodded and sipped at the potion, trying not to make a face. Severus seemed to always leave out anything that would take the aftertaste of the worst potions away. He said additives for taste always compromised the integrity of his potions, but Albus wouldn't mind a Pepper Imp now and again.

"What does this person look like?"

Bill scowled as he thought about it. "He's...well...I'd say he's rather…"

"Hard to describe," Dumbledore supplied. He had not gotten a good look at the man, but there were mannerisms that stuck out in his mind, even if the features were rather vague. He had the impression that some sort of memory charm was usually performed by Blackheart, as anyone who spoke of him did so in very small detail.

"Another coincidence," Severus said, although his tone was full of sarcasm. "We still know nothing of this individual. He could be working for the Dark Lord."

Bill snorted and shook his head. "Not the Phoenix. He's solid, through and through."

"He has served us in very valuable ways lately, Severus," said Dumbledore. He warned Snape mentally not to say too much more. The Potions Professor took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You can trust him," said Bill as he took another sandwich and began gathering up this things. "If you've no further need for me, Headmaster."

"You are free to go, Bill. And thank you. I do not need to ask you to keep this quiet-"

"Not at all," said Bill with a smile. "I know my place, sir. And I'd never say anything to betray the Phoenix, either. He's...well, let's just say that some of the scrapes we've gotten out of together have built a healthy respect in my mind for his skill with magic. He's not the type of wizard you want to cross." Bill gave a sort of half-salute to Dumbledore, and a nod in Snape's direction before leaving the office.

Dumbledore stared down at his grey hand. It looked better now that the potions Severus had forced him to drink were taking effect. The coldness of the night seeped into his skin, making him shiver. He'd come so close tonight to losing everything.

"Again!" Severus hissed as he paced back and forth across the office. "Again, this wizard thwarts us."

"Try not to take it so personally, Severus," Dumbledore said, his lips lifting in a faint smile. "I highly doubt he's doing this just to spite you."

Snape glared at the old man and finally sank down into his favorite chair, in a dark corner of the room. "And you still have no idea-"

"I have a new suspicion," Dumbledore admitted. The idea had been churning in his head all night and had only settled as the light of the sun rose, bringing a golden hew to his office. "I need to send you on a mission, Severus."

"Headmaster," the man said calmly, "you know that I would go to the ends of the earth if you asked."

"And that is just what may be required, Severus," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I need you to find Remus Lupin."

Distaste shown quickly on Severus' face before he schooled his features. "I do not relish the title of Dog Catcher, Albus."

"Remus has never done anything to knowingly harm you."

"Still-"

"A prank gone wrong, decades ago. When, Severus, do you plan to grow up?"

Snape opened his mouth to respond, but Dumbledore overrode him. "We are fighting the same war. If what I suspect is true, then you will owe Remus Lupin your life, Severus."

"You cannot be serious."

"Oh, but I am, my dear Professor. At any rate, I believe that the sooner you have found Remus Lupin and brought him here to Hogwarts, the sooner we will have answers."

"Why not find Sirius Black while I'm at it?" Snape sneered.

"Fine idea. Add that to your list to accomplish."

His mouth felt full of cotton and his eyes like sandpaper when he finally awoke. He blinked away the shadows and peered at the golden light in the room, judging it to be mid-afternoon. He'd been so exhausted when he'd returned from Little Hangleton that he'd collapsed on his bed, not bothering to undress at all. His travel cloak still smelled like smoke and charred flesh. He sniffed at it, and then tugged it off, tossing it to the floor.

Every muscle and joint ached and he stretched, hating that there were so many pops and creaks. Twenty years old, and sometimes he felt decades older.

He toed off his boots and swung his legs over the side of the bed, yawning and scratching as he tried to remember all that had happened. After emptying his pockets, he shuffled in stocking-clad feet down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Wondered if you were going to sleep forever."

Sirius sat on a chair that was magically balanced on two legs, his bare feet resting on the kitchen table. If Dobby were here… Blackheart smirked at the thought.

"How long was I asleep?"

Sirius lowered the old Daily Prophet he'd been reading and glanced at him. "Three days."

"Three…?!" Blackheart groaned and flopped onto the long bench that sat opposite his godfather. Three days. No doubt he'd lost his job by now, and…. Ginny! Oh, Ginny. What would she think?

"You've had an owl."

"I'm not taking a case right now."

"No. An owl." Sirius tilted his head to the side. Blackheart glanced over to Arell's perch and saw his owl there, watching another owl, edging slightly away from the rust-colored ball of feathers that rocked side to side on the far end of the perch. He didn't recognize it at all.

"Who would…"

"Well, I can say that a few of my questions now have answers."

Sirius snapped his fingers and then scowled when nothing happened. He did it again, staring at his fingertips. Nothing happened.

"Damned elf magic." He reached into his robes and produced a folded piece of parchment. "Don't know how you make it look so easy."

Blackheart snatched the letter and growled at Sirius. "You read my mail?"

"You've been lying to me."

He wanted to snap back, but there wasn't much he could say. He had been lying, of sorts. Instead, he opened the letter, his eyes scanning the small handwriting.

Harry,

I'm not sure what's happened to you. Morgan was furious when you didn't show up for work. I told him you were deathly ill. You'd better be deathly ill! He was mollified for the time being.

I wish you'd contact me.

If you've changed your mind about the date, about us...well, I won't say anything more. Just...please let me know you're alive.

Ginny

"Ginny Weasley, I'm assuming?"

"Don't."

"What?"

"Just...don't."

"I think it's good that you're dating. I just question-"

"Fairly sure this falls under the 'don't' category."

Sirius just laughed and pushed back from the table. He pulled a couple of owl treats from a container on the counter and tossed them in the direction of the perch. Both owls snatched them from mid-air.

"Timing, Blackheart, timing."

"Again, don't."

Sirius held up his hands in surrender. "I take it the mission-not the find-a-girlfriend-mission-but the other one, turned out well?"

Blackheart growled and folded Ginny's letter after reading it once more. "Well enough. He was after another horcrux. And one of the Hallows. Riddle used the stone. It was in a ring."

"Destroyed?"

"Yes." Blackheart rubbed his eyes. "But not without cost. Dumbledore nearly lost his hand, and might've lost his life."

"The old fool."

"I called him that."

"Good."

"I had to call in a favor to save him."

"What sort of favor?"

"Cursebreaker."

"Weasley?"

"He is the best."

Sirius hummed and then shook his head when Blackheart peered at him. A smile played on his lips and Blackheart knew that a smart remark about Ginny was likely just about to explode out of his mouth.

"I need to respond back. I think she just saved my job."

"Don't you already have enough jobs?"

"You'd think."

Blackheart shuffled out after motioning to Ginny's owl. The tiny owl gave an excited hoot and took off from the perch, landing on Blackheart's shoulder, chattering away at him.

"Grovel, my young Blackheart. Grovel."

"How would you know?"

SIrius' eyebrow raised slowly. "Your mother was a formidable witch. James spent many days and nights grovelling to get back into her good graces. I learned from watching him."

"Grovel?"

"Like your life depends upon it."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The entire Ministry was a disaster, and the Auror department was the worst. Ron watched wizards and witches scurry here and there, snapping at each other and wearing permanent scowls.

He knew the situation was bleak. A mass breakout at Azkaban was bound to reflect badly on the Ministry. Thank Merlin he hadn't been on patrol duty this week. The few Aurors who were had been sacked immediately, even though there was nothing they could have done to stop the Dementors from abandoning their posts. Three wizards against all of those convicts was no match; they were lucky they'd escaped with their lives, honestly.

The war was beginning to really pick up now and everyone was twitchy, on edge, and watching every step they made, Ron included.

And Harry...well, he'd been more pissy and distracted than ever. He'd gotten written up for disobedience to his superior officer just the other day. Ron wasn't sure what had gotten into him lately. His friend was nothing short of a mess. He showed up to work with unkempt hair, several days' stubble, and wrinkled robes more than once. Ron had saved him with a few charms, and growled at his friend to hold it together.

Ever since Harry had been summoned to Hogwarts….

"They sacked Tonks."

Seamus slipped into Ron's cubicle with Harry right behind him. His whispered words startled Ron.

"Tonks? But she had nothing to do with-"

"Apparently, she mouthed off to Robards," said Seamus. "Told him this whole mess was the Ministry's fault."

Ron sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. He'd been on patrol for more than twenty hours now with only quick breaks for the loo and to down another cup of coffee.

"Can't say I blame them," grumbed Harry. He looked as unkempt as ever and Ron wondered what duty they'd stuck him with today. Even Gringotts refused to have him, right now.

"Yeah, but you can't say that around here," warned Seamus. He peered around, as if the Head Auror might jump out and catch them gossiping at any minute.

"Still," said Ron. "Tonks."

"Got to head out," Seamus said after glancing at Harry then nodding at Ron. "Got me pulling a double tonight. See you blokes later. Keep yer heads down!"

The two friends watched him go and Harry flopped into the rickety office chair that perched in the corner.

"It's all useless, isn't it?" he said quietly. "You-Know-Who is going to take over."

"Harry!" Ron hissed. "You can't say things like that."

"It's true."

The despair he'd seen in his friend's eyes the past couple of weeks took over his features once more. Ron wasn't sure what to call it, but he suspected that Dumbledore had warned Harry of something about the war. Harry had always tried to play down the attack that he'd survived, but Ron knew that there was something strange about it.

"Maybe," said Ron, "but you can't run about saying it. And it's not like the Ministry is just going to let it happen."

"Like they let those prisoners break out of Azkaban."

"It's happened before. Remember Sirius Black?"

Harry couldn't argue the point, as they'd gone back and forth for years about it, anyway. Sirius Black had escaped-no one knew how-and then had disappeared. Ron had his own theories. He was fairly sure that Black, one of You-Know-Who's most loyal Death Eaters, had quickly joined his evil master's ranks in order to subdue the Wizarding World. Harry wasn't so sure, but his theories didn't extend much past why the convict had broken out in the first place.

"What's with you lately, anyway?" Ron asked. "You've been off ever since you went to Hogwarts. Maybe before then, even." He shook his head and ignored Harry's scowl. "Does this have something to do with Ginny?"

Harry's expression darkened even further. "No."

"Because she's not really seeing Neville, you know. That was some sort of joke. But...I think she might be seeing some bloke from work, actually. She told Mum something like that the other day."

Harry didn't even flinch. He was staring out into the hallway, as if he hadn't heard Ron at all.

"I need to tell you something…"

Ron sat up in his seat, sliding forward slightly. "What?"

Harry hesitated. He shifted about, pushed his long hair back with both hands, and couldn't keep his eyes off the hallway.

"When I went to Hogwarts-"

"Weasley!"

Ron swore to himself and slumped back. Being summoned by Robards was never good, but especially not now.

"Hold that thought." Ron motioned for Harry to follow him, worried that if he let his friend out of his sight, Harry would clam up again and Ron would never know what was going on inside his head.

They both trudged down the hallway, Ron trying to straighten his own wrinkly robes, giving it up as a bad job. He'd been at work long enough to excuse a little laziness.

Robards was standing at the entrance to the Auror department, waiting rather impatiently. He glared at Harry, who had the decency to try to smooth his robes in front of the Head Auror.

"You've got a visitor." He hooked his thumb back toward one of the interrogation rooms that sat along the far wall. The windows were fogged over, so Ron couldn't make out who it might be waiting for him. He honestly had no idea. Nobody had ever come to see him at work before. He supposed it could be his father, but...it seemed odd that he would be waiting in one of those rooms.

"Thank you, sir."

"Make it quick, Weasley. We need you back out in thirty minutes."

Ron bit back the angry reply that came to mind and nodded jerkily as Robards marched away.. "Come on, Harry."

"He didn't say anything about me!"

"You're coming."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Ron's quelling look was enough to warn him away from argument. He finally nodded and followed Ron.

"Wands out, do you reckon?"

"It's the Ministry, Ron."

"Better safe than sorry." Ron tightened his grip on his chestnut wand and reached for the door handle.

When he saw who was inside, he nearly fell back against Harry in surprise.

"Percy?"

"Close the door, Ronald."

Ron hesitated, unsure if he was being tricked in some way, or if it was really his prattish brother appearing out of nowhere after months-months!-of disappearing.

"I assure you it's me," Percy said. He rattled off a few facts that eased Ron's mind somewhat, but Ron still kept a tight hold on his wand.

"Are you sure you want me here?"

Harry looked back and forth between the two brothers. He knew how much friction there was between Ron and Percy at the best of times and was ready for any escape, no doubt.

"Sit," Percy said. "What I have to say concerns you, too."

"Where have you been?"

Percy raised his wand and sealed the doors. He performed some other sort of spell, also, that made Ron's ears ring slightly. He shook his head to try and clear them, and it helped a little.

"Various places," said Percy. "You know I work for the Department of International Cooperation, Ronald. Occasionally, they sent me to other countries to-"

"Cooperate internationally," interrupted Ron. "Yeah, I read the letter you sent to Mum. Didn't believe a word of it. Still don't. You're up to something."

"What makes-"

"I grew up with Gred and Forge, Perce. I know when to spot trouble."

Percy seemed to change in an instant. The prim and proper brother Ron had always known looked tired and suddenly much older. "Fine."

"Are you going to tell me?"

Percy's jaw tightened and Ron swore he could hear his teeth grinding. "I've been...working undercover for a secret organization."

Ron pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. Harry sat next to him, leaning toward the table as they waited for Percy to continue.

"An organization dedicated to the downfall of Vold-" Harry hissed and the Percy glared at him. "-You-Know-Who."

Ron's mind went blank as he tried to process that idea. "Cor." Percy? Percy was a spy?!

"It's called the Order of the Phoenix."

"Why're you telling us?" Harry asked.

"Because I've been commissioned to invite you to join us."

Ron sat back in his chair and stared at his brother. Harry ran his hand through his hair again, pushing it clear of his forehead. His scar stood out more prominently than Ron remembered it being in the past. It was a pale pink color, not the faded color that made it almost invisible unless you looked closely.

"Join?" asked Harry. "What would we have to do?" He swallowed loudly enough that Ron heard it.

"For now, not much. Perhaps pass along information from the Aurors."

"We can't do that!" Harry sputtered. "We took oaths."

Ron thought back to the pledges of loyalty that they'd taken upon completing Auror training. There had been nothing about passing information one way or the other. Could he still be loyal to the Ministry and loyal to his brother at the same time?

"Technically," Percy said, "your oaths-"

"We'll do it," Ron said. Harry thumped him painfully in the side, but Ron didn't tear his eyes from Percy's. "Whatever you need."

"Ron!"

He turned on Harry. "Weren't you just saying that the Ministry wasn't doing enough to stop You-Know-Who? Well, this is our chance."

Harry paled and shook his head. Ron could see his shoulders trembling as he stared off into the room.

"Come on, Harry. We have the chance to really make a difference, here."

"It's not our war." Harry's whisper was shaky, and Ron knew he didn't believe it.

"It's everyone's war," Percy said. "Yours especially."

Harry's head jerked around, his eyes bright and wide. "Why mine? What do you mean?"

Percy glanced at Ron before sighing. "This isn't general knowledge, but...there was an attack yesterday night in Surrey."

Ron felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Surrey?"

"Privet Drive."

They both looked at Harry, who stared blankly back.

"Are they… Percy?" Ron's heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

They all knew what that meant. The Dursley's had been killed simply for their connection to Harry.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because they could," Ron said.

"No," Harry said. "I mean, why bother?"

"They were looking for you, I'd assume," said Percy.

"I haven't been back there in ages. There was no point."

Ron stared at Harry, wondering at his disconnected affect. It almost seemed as if Harry didn't care at all about them.

"I mean, they did their job, kept me alive, didn't they?"

"Harry!"

He shrugged and brushed it aside. "Why is the Ministry keeping it quiet?"

Percy seemed just as perplexed at Harry's reaction and shook his head. "I'm sure they have their reasons."

Ron definitely knew there was more going on, but now wasn't the time. He'd press Harry about it later.

"What do you need from us right now?" he asked.

Percy took a deep breath and leaned forward. "I need information. Our best source is no longer available to us, and-"

Something clicked in Ron's mind and he sat up. "Tonks?" he asked. "She was your spy?"

Percy didn't confirm, but the way his eyes dilated slightly was enough for Ron.

"If they know you're involved, Perce, they'll suspect me right away."

"They don't know I'm involved. I really am working abroad for International Cooperation. At least, officially."

A whole new respect for his brother bloomed in Ron's mind and he shook his head. "I'll do my best." He turned and looked at Harry, who had a very doubtful expression. "Right, Harry?"

Harry looked rather gray, but nodded. "Sure."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Ginny was trying not to be annoyed. Nothing seemed to be going right. Work had been a disaster the last few days. With Harry disappearing, Morgan had been a nightmare, cursing and yelling at everyone. Even Phyllis had been cowed and kept her head down rather than growl back at him. The broomsmiths were threatening to strike if they didn't get an increase in pay, and Ginny was stuck testing their shoddy work all by herself.

Whatever was going on with Harry, he hadn't communicated with anyone. She had a sinking feeling in her gut that she'd pressed too far, flirted just a bit too much and it had put him off her. Even though he'd asked her out, and kissed her, maybe he'd changed his mind after thinking it over more.

She'd had several dreams, too, that didn't settle well, despite Harry's letter reassuring her that he was fine, just incapacitated by a bad run in with some Bulbadox Powder. Supposedly he'd had boils and welts all over his hands and arms for several days and had been sleeping extensively between receiving treatments. She wasn't so sure, but made note to ask George about Bulbadox Powder when she saw him next.

And now she was late-again-to a Weasley family meeting. They'd all been summoned, even Bill and Charlie, and were expected to be at the Burrow for dinner. She was still in her flight kit, hair a mess, and bad attitude in place when she walked in the back door.

The kitchen was full of Weasleys and sundry various others when she arrived. Even Percy was there, which surprised Ginny. She hadn't heard that he was back in England at all. Ginny greeted Hermione and her mother both with a quick hug, skirted around Fred and Bill, nudged Ron in the back sharply for bringing Harry with him, dodged Charlie's attempt to tussle her hair, whispered to George that she needed to talk with him later, kissed her father on the cheek, and kicked Percy in the shin.

The noise level was nearly deafening, but there was something comforting and familiar about it all. Dinner hovered over the table and they all sat down, digging in as conversation flowed. Ginny didn't really feel like participating, but listened in around her, gathering what she could.

"-back in country for a couple of days-"

"-said the shipment might be delayed because of-"

"-house elf liberation legislation-"

"-Cannons lost again-"

"...apples up twenty knuts more a-"

"-Daily Prophet said-"

Her eye caught Percy's and she noticed that he wasn't talking to anyone, either, and he was eating only small bits, moving his food around his plate with his fork. They looked at each other for a long minute before Percy smiled at her. Something in his eyes-deep and troubled-made Ginny's breath catch. There was something going on with him and Ginny wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

Once the food had been consumed and conversation dried up, Ginny's father stood and thumped his cup on the table several times, as he did at the start of every family meeting.

"Thank you for coming. I know that some of you had to travel a fair distance, or rearrange work schedules. Well, we felt it was important enough to pull you away."

"Whatever it is, you've got my vote," Charlie joked as he buttered one last bread roll.

The smile that broke out on her father's face, slow and hesitant, worried Ginny. Whatever he had to say, it was important and likely not good news.

"Percy?"

Everyone was surprised when he turned the meeting over and Percy stood. He didn't smile, didn't straighten like he might lecture at all, even. George nudged Ginny's ankle and nodded to him in question. Ginny answered with a shoulder shrug. She had no idea what this was about.

"Thank you, Father." Percy looked older, and there were creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Dark smudges under his eyes indicated he hadn't been sleeping well.

"Somebody not cooperating, Perce?" Fred was the only one to laugh at his own joke.

"Some of you might have noticed that I was out of touch for awhile-"

"Rather," said George dryly.

"Yes, well...it was rather unavoidable. I was on what you might call a fact-finding mission."

"For the ministry?" Hermione's eyebrows lifted and Ginny could see the wheels in her head turning.

Percy hesitated and then shook his head. "No. For the Order of the Phoenix."

A ripple of energy went around the table as people questioned what that was, who Percy was mixed up in. Ginny saw that Bill didn't look completely surprised. Or Ron, either. Harry was staring down at his plate, moving one last roasted carrot back and forth with his fork.

"The Order of the Phoenix was a group formed during the last war to bring about the downfall of...of You-Know-Who."

"Cor." Ginny shook her head as her mind tried to process that. Her brother-prim and proper Percy-was part of a secret group subverting the Ministry and getting mixed up with shady people who were standing up to You-Know-Who. She'd never have guessed it in a million years.

"And I'm only telling you this now because...because we need help. The Order has spies all over the place, people watching, people recruiting, people funding...if you can think of a way to support the war effort, then we've got someone doing it."

"Even Aurors," Ron said quietly. Ginny's eyes snapped to his clouded blue ones and he gave a small nod to her. Harry, looking slightly sick, nodded to her also.

"And Cursebreakers."

Bill was mixed up in all of this too. Ginny could tell from the looks shared between brothers that even they hadn't known the others were involved.

"I"ve heard of them," their father said quietly. "During the last war. The Potter's..." He gave a sympathetic look to Harry, who was staring down at the table. "...the Longbottoms, so many others. They were working behind the scenes to do anything they could."

"Who's leading this group?" Hermione said. "Surely it would be better if it were controlled by the Ministry, or even reported to the Aurors in charge-"

"That's why we don't," Percy said firmly. "Most of us don't even know more than a few people involved, for our own safety, and for theirs."

The wording struck Ginny as funny and she wracked her brain, trying to place it. Hadn't Fred and George's bloke said something similar. She nudged George's leg and mouthed 'your bloke?' to him. George looked as bewildered as Ginny felt.

'Maybe', he mouthed back.

"The Ministry would just complicate things," said Bill. "This isn't something strictly legal, Hermione."

Hermione sniffed primly and tucked her arm into Fred's, who patted her hand supportively. Ginny still didn't get that particular relationship, but who was she to judge.

"Surely you're not participating in illegal activities." Her mother's whispered words, almost a plea, made Ginny ache inside. She could understand the worry, but anything that stopped You-Know-Who, legal or not, made sense in Ginny's mind.

"What do you need from us?" Ginny asked.

Percy was quiet, thinking it over. "Maybe nothing. Maybe just be alert and let me know if there's something you notice that seems out of place-"

"There's more we can do," Charlie said, his face pinched into a scowl. "There's someone…. Well, we call him Inima Neagra in Romania. He's sort of a problem solver. Maybe-"

"Sounds like your Bloke," Ron said, turning to George.

"Might be."

"I don't know anyone like that," Percy said, but there was something in the way he hesitated that made Ginny think there was more to the story.

"Hold on," she said. "Are you talking about the same person?"

Charlie leaned around Ron to look at Ginny. "Tall, rather stooped in the shoulders?"

"No," Fred said. "I'd say shorter, more average height."

"With a beard," Bill said.

"No." Percy shook his head. "Clean shaven."

"Well, that clears things right up," Ginny said with a huff.

"It doesn't sound like the same person at all," said Hermione.

"Maybe so, maybe not." George tilted his head to the side. "Only one way to know for sure. How do you get hold of him?"

Everyone hesitated, looking at each other.

"Wait, how many of you have used this person?" Their father sounded concerned.

"Me," Bill said. "He's the best cursebreaker around."

"Us," both Fred and George said at the same time.

Charlie nodded. "Used him around the reserve when we had some issues."

"I've seen him," Ron said.

Ginny raised her hand slightly. "Me too."

"I've had a run-in with him," said Percy. "And a friend in France has worked with him several times."

An uncomfortable silence descended.

"All of my children are criminals."

A giggle began-Ginny thought it might have started with Fred-at their mother's forlorn pronouncement and rippled around the table.

"In any case," Percy said finally. "I don't think we're to that point, just yet. And Dumbledore will let us know when, or if, we do arrive there."

"Dumbledore?" Harry's derisive snort surprised Ginny. He sounded almost bitter. When she looked at him, however, he had clamped his mouth shut and was staring off out the kitchen window.

"He's the head of the Order," said Percy.

"Don't mind Harry," Ron mumbled. "He's had a tough day at work." Ginny saw Harry flinch and glare at Ron, and she wondered if her brother had pinched his friend to earn such a look.

"Well, I'm in," said Charlie. "Don't know how much used I'll be, though. But I'll keep my eyes open and my ear to the ground in Romania."

"Good." Percy nodded.

"Oh, you know we're in," George said as Fred nodded firmly. "We've got some contacts who might be interested, as well, a few chums from school who have skills to contribute."

"Certainly not any of your reputable friends," Hermione huffed.

"Yes, dear." Fred patted her hand again and Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh, it's fine, Hermione," said George. "None of our friends are reputable, anyway."

"Harry and I are in," said Ron. "Already gave you our answer."

"What about it, Ginny?" Bill asked.

Ginny tilted her head to the side. SHe wasn't sure what she could contribute at all to the Order, but if it meant making sure that her family was safe, she'd do anything.

"Of course, I'm in. Don't be stupid." Bill grinned at her and Percy gave a pleased nod.

They turned to look at their parents, who were silently conferring with each other. "We just want all of our children to be safe," said Mr. Weasley.

"And that includes you, Harry and Hermione, dears," her mother said.

"If this had come about while you were all still in school, I would have said no," their father said. "But you're all adults now."

"Gee, thanks, Dad," Fred said.

"And I have no doubt you'd all be up to it in your eyeballs, no matter what we said anyway." He turned to look at Percy, giving a large sigh. "Whatever your mother and I can do to help."

"I really am sorry, Ginny."

Blackheart waited for Ginny to respond through his earpiece. He was going to repeat it, just in case she hadn't heard, when she sighed.

"I know. You've said."

They were flying in lazy circles around the pitch. The weather charmers were having some sort of dispute over what conditions to have them fly in, so he and Ginny were taking advantage and just hovering, mostly.

Blackheart felt horrible. He'd been forced to lie to Ginny, and that didn't sit well with him. But he also knew that he couldn't tell her the truth. How would it sound if he were to come out and say, 'sorry I flaked on you, Ginny, but you see I have another identity as a vigilante, and I was magically exhausted after saving the Headmaster of Hogwarts life the other day. Yeah, that would go over well.

"Don't be angry with me. The situation was...unavoidable." While he'd been contrite at the beginning of their day, Blackheart was not becoming annoyed at Ginny's reticence to talk to him, let alone let him explain.

She sighed again. "I really do understand, Harry. I just...I thought we had something, you know."

"I thought we did, too." He fell into a dive, hardly feeling the exhilaration of the move but needing the adrenaline to take the edge off.

She turned to watch him in silence and was staring when he pulled up level with her again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He tugged at the earpiece and let it dangle at the side of his neck, preferring to hear her words in real life. "I'm just…" She shook her head. "I'm dealing with some family stress. I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

He felt a little of the frustration slip away. "Anything I can help with?"

"Only if you can off You-Know-Who and end this stupid war," she said flippantly.

Blackheart's stomach climbed into his throat and he forced himself to smirk. "I wish."

They shared an awkward smile and he began to feel a little better. Maybe their misunderstanding was just that, and could be overcome if they could get back to talking like they usually did.

"I do still want to go out, you know."

Ginny's smile brightened. "I'd like that."

"And I know there will be more times that I completely mess this up," he said. "It's pretty much a sure bet, actually. But...I enjoy spending time with you."

"If we can get back to work?" Mr. Morgan's voice boomed over the pitch and Blackheart swore, making Ginny laugh.

"I'm starting to hate him."

They flew to their starting positions, sneaking looks at each other throughout the entire testing flight.

Harry watched the Aurors receive their assignments for the day, one by one leaving headquarters and going out to the field to work. He'd be staying in, doing paperwork. Again. He knew that Robards hated him, and that his attitude was to blame for it all, but he also couldn't help it. Nobody else had a horrible prophecy hanging over them the way that Harry did. Nobody understood, and it made him hate them all just a little bit. Even Ron had been annoying him lately, with his cheery attitude and excitement over being included in the stupid Order of the Phoenix. What good was the secret organization when Harry knew it was really him that had to end You-Know Who?

Of course, he hadn't told anyone, although the burning need was growing. There was new speculation everyday in the papers. Death Eater attacks were growing at an alarming rate and people were looking for a savior. Harry didn't want to be one. He just wanted to fade into the background and let someone else take care of things. But that damned prophecy changed everything, didn't it?

And he was torn. He wasn't ready to die for everyone, but he also didn't feel like he had a choice. His friends were willingly putting themselves on the line to stop a madman, and there was little to no hope of them succeeding unless Harry stepped up. His knees shook just thinking about it.

And Dumbledore was becoming an increasingly painful thorn in his side. He had begun sending owls with supportive messages, and was now sending more demanding missives. He expected Harry to just step up and deal with the situation. No training. No idea on even how to do it!

He had half a mind to simply disappear!

Even as the thought entered his mind, he felt bad. He couldn't do it, could he? There were people counting on him, even if they didn't know he was The Chosen One. They expected him to be there as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and as an Auror. He was their friend.

All of it was leaving him confused and horribly conflicted.

Seeing Ginny the other night hadn't helped. She seemed to not really see him at all, anymore, as if he were simply one of her brothers, or even less, at times. It made him angry. How dare she ignore him completely. And lie to him! Ron had admitted that the whole Neville situation was untrue. He called it a misunderstanding, but Harry could read between the lines. Ginny hated him, was disgusted by his affection for her, and had come up with a lie on the spot to avoid spending any time with him. And she'd used Neville Longbottom to do it!

It all settled low in his belly, seething and churning, making Harry feel desperate and forlorn at the same time.

He'd decided to confront Ginny once and for all, to force her to listen to his side of things and see if she'd at least give him a chance.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Her nerves were shot. Her hand shook as she sipped at her butterbeer and scanned the crowd milling around the Three Broomsticks. She was here on official business for the Order, her first assignment, but she couldn't help thinking this was a giant mistake.

Why had she been appointed the liaison between the Order and...Fred and George's Bloke? Or whoever he was. Surely there were more capable witches or wizards. Ones who were not shaking in their shoes the entire time they had to write the letter and use the spell to summon him.

His reply had come almost immediately, shocking her. An hour after she'd sent the letter, a pop sounded in her bedroom at the Burrow-his own correspondence back to her, setting up this meeting. Why he'd chosen such a high-profile, public place was beyond Ginny.

And if that wasn't all, she'd been cornered by Harry Potter again, just an hour before she was supposed to be seated at the pub. The conversation had started out polite, if awkward, but had quickly turned as Harry demanded that she listen to him, and even reciprocate his feelings. Ginny stopped feeling guilty at that point, and simply wanted to hex the living daylights out of him. It was fine that he felt that way, but she had no obligation to return his feeling simply because he wanted her to. The nerve!

"Ginny Weasley?"

Madam Rosemerta approached Ginny's table, balancing a large tray of precariously balanced drinks.

"Er…"

"No way of hiding with that hair, love," the barmaid said with a laugh. "I'm afraid I recognize it all too well. Your brothers were in here more than they ever were up at the school."

Ginny rolled her eyes and nodded her head. "So I've heard."

"Anyway, you've got a message." She handed over an envelope sealed with deep purple wax.

"An owl?" Ginny asked. "A messenger?"

"No idea," Rosemerta said with a shrug. "Whoever it was just gave it to one of the patrons, who gave it to me." She shifted the tray on her hand and called across the room to the witches and wizards trying to get her attention. "Hold your hippogriffs, I'll be right there."

She set the envelope on the table and Ginny started at it before looking around the pub, trying to see if anyone was watching her. Nobody seemed to stand out and Ginny wondered if this was some sort of test, or maybe even a trap.

The Bloke hadn't said anything about sending a message in his letter. He'd just set the time and place for the meeting, no other details.

Then again, considering his history with sending Gred and Forge on wild goose chases, Ginny should have expected something more than a simple sit-down, face-to-face meeting.

Discreetly pulling her wand, Ginny tried to detect if there were any spells on the letter, but there appeared to be nothing.

With a deep breath, Ginny scooped the envelope into her pocket, left some money on the table, and walked outside, trying not to let her pounding heart evaporate her courage away. She continued down the road, almost reaching Hogsmeade station before she chanced looking at the letter. Her fingers traced the seal, then slipped under the edge, breaking it. Inside was a plain piece of parchment and a single, downy feather.

"Miss Weasley," she read aloud, barely a whisper. "Apologies for what must seem like a chase. Unfortunately, the Three Broomsticks is far too visible for someone like myself. And you'd be at risk, also if we met there."

Annoyance erupted in Ginny. "Why did he send me there, then?!"

"I know I've given no reason for you to trust me, but please do. The feather is a portkey. It can be activated to bring you to a safe location by speaking your name."

It was signed with an ornate BH. Ginny wracked her brain, trying to remember what her siblings had called the man. Nothing with the initials of BH came to her. Perhaps it was yet another alias.

She scoffed at the idea of using a portkey to an unknown location provided by an unknown wizard, and leaving herself completely at his mercy. It didn't sound wise at all.

And if the message from the Order hadn't been urgent, Ginny would have destroyed the portkey and apparated home. But...Percy had said that they needed this wizard's help on one of their missions, that it was vital. And since it was her assignment…

She braced herself, wand out, and clasped the feather in her fist. "Ginny Weasley."

Nothing happened.

Ginny blinked at the item, trying to decide what to do. If he'd sent her a defective…

"Seriously," she grumbled.

"Ginevra Weasley."

Nothing happened.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley."

The hook and pull feeling in her middle took her by surprise and she squeaked, gripping her wand even tighter.

She landed in an ungraceful heap on a dusty floor, her ankle twisting in the fall. She grasped it and bit her lips rather than swear at the pain.

The room was half-lit, and extremely musty. She stood, wincing at the ankle, and brushing her robes and trying to get her bearings. The place was a mess. Broken furniture lay scattered about the sitting room with a heavy layer of dust, cobwebs, and muck. There was an old chintz settee pushed back against one wall that looked as if it had bite marks in the torn cushions. Bite marks!

"Hello?"

Nobody answered and Ginny prepared herself to apparate back to Hogsmeade. Her ankle wasn't strong enough to put weight on, and she sucked in a breath when she tried.

"Of course," she muttered. "Should have known. Send me running all over the countryside."

Ginny huffed and glared at the feather that sat harmlessly on a pile of torn, dirty rags in the middle of the floor.

"Are you always this impatient?"

She swore loudly this time and teetered, falling back to the settee and sending up a cloud of dust.

"Yes," she finally said as he looked him up and down. His cloak was in place, hiding his face in shadow. She got the distinct impression that he was trying not to laugh at her. "I don't suffer fools well."

"Am I a fool?"

"That's yet to be seen." How she had the nerve to be so cheeky toward him, Ginny didn't know. "I was lured here-wherever here is-and I find that I'm completely at your mercy. I don't like the feeling."

"Ah."

She tugged at her robes, lifting her ankle and poking at the slight swelling there.

"You hurt yourself?"

Ginny took a calming breath and nodded. "Just my ankle." She pulled her wand, but the man stepped forward.

"Let me," he said. "I have a bit of experience in this sort of thing."

He moved impossibly close and Ginny felt herself flush all over. Her mind felt foggy and jumped all over, noticing things about him, about the room, and about unconnected events until everything was just a mashed up blur.

He palpated her ankle and his fingers were both cold and warm at the same time. "Doesn't appear to be broken."

"Just...just twisted." Ginny wished he'd lift his head, just a bit more, then she could look under his hood to see his face. There was something about his voice that triggered a memory, but her fogged mind couldn't seem to grasp onto it to pull it forward.

"I'll just heal it," he said. "Simple spell. Nothing threatening."

Ginny's heart raced and she felt herself nod. His hands steadied her foot, one on each side. He didn't use a wand, but the feeling of the healing spell was the same she expected.

"Wandless," she murmured.

He chuckled. "It's up my sleeve."

"Oh"

He was still holding her ankle and dropped it, as if just realizing that he was touching her skin.

"Where are we?"

"Someplace you would know."

"I don't know this place." She looked around, trying to decide why he thought she might.

The wizard backed up, more into the shadow once more, and Ginny felt her mind clear slightly.

"It's the Shrieking Shack."

"Oh." She scowled. "The most haunted house in Britain."

A strange laugh came from him. "That's the rumor."

A shiver ran through her, but she forced it away. She had business with this man, if she could just remember what it was she was supposed to tell him.

"Are you…"

"What?"

"Are you using a Confundus Charm on me?"

"Too strong?"

"It's a bit hard to focus."

He sighed and made a strange motion with his hand. The fog seemed to clear a bit.

"You didn't use one the last time we met."

"Didn't need to," he said.

She thought about that and opened her mouth to question it more, but then shook it away. Who understood wizards like him, anyway?

"I'm here representing an organization that requires your help."

She could only see a part of his lower jaw, but thought maybe he smirked. "And what organization is that?"

"The Order of the Phoenix."

"Dumbledore's Army."

Ginny bit her lip. "I suppose, you could call it that. He leads the Order."

"And you're their representative?"

Something about the question bristled and Ginny stood up, straightening her robes. "Yes."

"Okay."

They stared at each other for a long minute.

"Won't you take the cloak off?"

"It's better for us both if I don't."

"Why?"

"Safety, mostly," he said. "And I really don't want to have to use a memory charm on you."

"Oh."

"Is this just the introduction phase?" he asked. "You wanted to meet me in an official capacity as a messenger of Dumbledore's Army?"

Ginny scowled at him. "No. I have a message. If you'd shut up long enough for me to give it…" He tilted his head to the side, acknowledging her point. "The Order is trying to bring about the downfall of You-Know-"

"Say the name."

She hesitated, startled at his bark. "Vol-Voldemort," she said, her mouth going dry.

"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself," he said. "He's a man-a wizard-no matter how much he's bastardized himself in the process of living. He's just a man."

A fissure of awe enveloped Ginny. "We...we're trying to bring his downfall."

"Okay."

"And...and we think that you could help us."

"In what way?"

"In many ways. We know about your...skills, or have heard of them, anyway."

"Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?"

"It just is."

Ginny huffed and crossed her arms in front of her. He was infuriating on a strange level. It was as if he liked talking in riddles to see if she were smart enough to figure out what he meant.

"You remind me of Professor Dumbledore."

He barked out a laugh. "Hardly"

"Hmm."

"But I am curious how you think my...er...skills could be useful to you."

Ginny felt her face flush as she considered that sentence. " Not me! I mean...the Order…"

"Of course. What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly. "I'm meant to make contact with you, to see if you would be willing to work with us. Mostly, right now, it would be to provide information back and forth, since you seem less than inclined to make meeting an easy prospect."

He laughed and shook his head. "How do you know that we have the same goals, Miss Weasley? Perhaps I have no intention of stopping Voldemort's rise to power."

She hadn't considered that before and stared at him. "You do," she said, finally. "I believe that."

"You have faith."

"I suppose that's what you'd call it."

"I should be flattered…"

"But you're not?"

"In your faith? Yes. In Dumbledore's? I'm not so sure."

"You don't trust him."

"Dumbledore has his own agenda. Everyone does, I suppose. We are all human, after all. But since I don't know his agenda just yet, I'm inclined to be hesitant."

"Hesitant to join us?"

"I will not be joining the Order," he said firmly. "Working with and joining are two very different things."

"I suppose you are right."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

Ginny scowled. "Then Vol-Voldemort is your enemy. You admit it. You're talking in circles and it's making me dizzy."

"Sit down."

"I don't think I will."

"Suit yourself."

"I'm not sure this is even a good idea anymore." She threw up her hands and stared at him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not meaning to frustrate you, or even imply that I won't work with you."

"Will it be this difficult every time?"

"Probably."

"At least you're honest," she muttered.

"You may report back to the Order that I am willing to exchange information on several conditions. First, you are to be my contact every time."

Ginny felt herself flush and shook her head slowly, even though she knew she'd do it.

"Second, I make no promises that I'll participate past a certain point."

"You won't kill anyone," she said flippantly, "I've got it."

He hesitated. "Not necessarily."

A chill ran through her as she stared at where his face should be.

"I mean, I'm not opposed, if the situation warrants it."

"Oh."

"Turba Malum, right?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Look it up." He seemed amused and Ginny was growing tired of this cat-and-mouse style game.

"Any other conditions?"

"Not that I can think of right now," he said. "Does the Order have any conditions for me?"

"No."

"Interesting."

"Why?"

"Because every relationship comes with conditions, Ginny, it's just about discovering what they are."

His familiarity with her made her feel warm, yet cold at the same time. He'd admitted that he was not opposed to violence, if necessary, and given his chosen line of work it was highly likely that he'd already participated in some.

"That's a rather cynical view of life."

"Perhaps."

They were quiet as Ginny considered what more needed to be said. She'd delivered her invitation for him to join the order, which he'd declined. And he'd, in turn, delivered his conditions for continuing a mutually beneficial exchange of information.

"Why do you oppose Voldemort?"

The question shocked her. Wasn't it obvious?

"Not so much," he said when she asked him that. "And I've found that people generally have personal reasons beyond the fact that he's a murdering psychopath that they're morally opposed to."

Flashes of Tom Riddle came to her mind and Ginny closed her eyes against them. "My uncles died in the last war. My brothers are fighting in this one."

"Not good enough."

Her eyes flashed open and she glared. "What's your reason?"

"We're talking about you."

Ginny shook her head, unwilling to tell him of her past. He might know anyway, since he seemed to know so much anyway.

"We're done here," she said. "I'll be in contact when-if-we need to talk again."

"I didn't mean to offend."

"Yes, you did. You meant to put me on edge. It gives you an advantage when I'm flustered and thinking about myself. Then I'm not picking apart your life."

He was quiet and she wondered if she'd guessed correctly.

"Here." He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a galleon coin. "I've charmed it. No need to send my owl back and forth, wearing out his wings." He flipped the coin to her, but Ginny let it fall to the ground. She didn't want to be caught unaware by a portkey, should he try to trick her.

"The same spell will activate it. It will let me know that you need me."

"Is this charming location meant to be our meeting place?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Nothing would come to her and Ginny wondered if he'd used a Confundus Charm again. His tone was more closed off again, guarded.

"For now, this will do. I've changed the wards so that both you and I can apparate in and out. Nobody else."

Ginny bent and snatched the coin off the floor, shoving it into her pocket. "Fine."

"Anything else?"

"Not unless you want to kill Harry Potter for me," she said with a smirk."

"Pardon?"

"Let me get this straight." Sirius was nearly falling off his chair laughing and Blackheart wanted to hex him. "She...she wants you to kill...you?"

"No! Well, yes. But no."

Sirius' laugher nearly shook the room. "Do you ever get confused? I mean, beyond all the names and identities you're juggling, now you're dating the same witch that your hidden identity is arranging clandestine meetings with.

Blackheart rested his head on the back of the sofa and stared up at the dark ceiling. "You have no idea."

"Are you ever going to tell her?"

"Where would I start?"

Sirius didn't seem to have an answer either and just shook his head. "It'll all come out in the end."

"Will there be an end?" He knew he sounded desperate, but this whole situation was getting out of hand. Despite the layers of complexity pulling Ginny in had added, Blackheart couldn't allow himself to regret it. Ginny had allowed himself to hope that beyond all of this-beyond the war, beyond the hidden identities-there might be hope of a different life waiting for him.

"You don't think working with the Order is a good idea?"

"I didn't say that."

"You told Ginny you wouldn't join. You called it Dumbledore's Army."

Blackheart winced. "Yeah. I did."

"But I think I understand," Sirius said. "Dumbledore does have an agenda. That's not to say it's not aligned with ours, though."

"And he's pulled Ginny into it." The thought made him madder each time it occurred to him. "Despite her past."

"You're underestimating her."

"You've never met her."

"I read the file, kiddo. She's a strong witch. She was back then, at twelve, and I can only imagine that's gotten truer as she's gotten older."

He couldn't argue with that. It was something that intrigued him about Ginny greatly. "I still don't like it."

"Of course not," said Sirius, "he's endangering the woman you love."

Blackheart spluttered. "I don't… I mean. I'm not sure…."

Sirius just laughed. "Okay, maybe it's a bit early for that. But I get it, I see why you don't want her involved. Your father had the same argument with your mother, especially once they found out you were on the way." Blackheart scowled and sank lower in his chair. "Let's agree to give Dumbledore a little pass on this one. He's getting desperate."

"We all are."

They were quiet for a long time as Blackheart let everything he was involved in swirl in his brain. Everything seemed to be moving faster and faster, coming to a point that he couldn't quite define somewhere in the not-too-distant future. Was it Voldemort? Was it the end of his spying? Was it some sort of a relationship with Ginny? He just didn't know.

"I was wrong."

Sirius startled and blinked at him. "About what?"

"Keeping you locked away here," Blackheart said. "I just...I couldn't handle the thought of losing you when I'd just found you."

"I understand."

"I don't think you do."

"I really do," he said. "You think I don't know about loneliness?"

Blackheart felt his throat grow thick and he nodded. He'd been so selfish, so determined that he could control every little thing in his world so that he would never have to be left alone again, that he'd made rash decisions impacting everyone around him.

"I've released the charms," he said. "You...you can leave anytime you want."

Sirius stared at him, but seemed to be at a loss for words. "Thank you."

Blackheart stared into the dark room. "This will end soon," he said. He didn't know how he knew. Call it faith, he supposed. Ginny's faith in him had changed something inside him.

"I hope," Sirius said, "for everyone's sake."

Blackheart was enjoying himself. The brooms today were sport models, in development for one of the professional Quidditch teams. Morgan wouldn't tell them which one, but both he and Ginny had been thrilled to be able to work on something with a bit more speed and agility.

Finally, they seemed to be getting back on what Blackheart felt was an even keel after the last few weeks of awkwardness. Ginny was flirting through the listening device once more, and Blackheart was gathering the nerve to set a time and place for their date.

It was refreshing to see that the two Ginny's he knew-one as the mysterious Blackheart, and this one as Harry-were essentially the same. She was quick witted, had a sharp tongue, and was funny. Blackheart felt a bit bad for deceiving her, but in a way, she was doing the same thing. She hadn't told Harry that she was a spy for the Order and was meeting with strange, secretive men.

They both had their secrets.

"Race you!"

"I have a better idea." Blackheart reached into his pocket and withdrew a small satchel. He held it up so that she could see it and her eyes widened.

"You're on."

"What does the winner get?" he asked. "We need to set the rules."

"I'll tell you when I win," Ginny said with a laugh. "Release it!"

Blackheart tugged at the string closing the top and the brand new snitch lifted out, stretching wings and hovering a moment before darting away.

Ginny leaned down on her broom and shot off after the ball, dodging and weaving as it did. Blackheart watched for a moment, a satisfying warmth filling his chest. He'd felt...off lately and couldn't explain just why. The anxiety over the situations he got himself into was part of it, but he'd been having strange dreams again and wasn't sleeping well. This was bringing headaches on and he now had one almost constantly, although they were usually mild enough to ignore.

"You're going to lose just hovering there, Harry."

Ginny raced by and Blackheart laughed as he shot after her, laying low on the broom he'd been given and almost catching up with her. They raced around the pitch and Blackheart wasn't sure if she was really watching for the elusive snitch, or if she was just enjoying flying, like he was.

They doubled back, side by side, before Ginny split off, diving spectacularly and whooping in his ear. Blackheart laughed as he slowed his pace and scanned the pitch. Quidditch was always something he'd wanted to try, but had never been given the opportunity. Ginny was a natural at flying and he had no doubt that one day she might be headlining a team somewhere. If she did, he knew he'd be in the stands cheering her on. A hopeful thought that she might be his flashed in his mind, but Blackheart tucked it away. It was a pleasant, happy thought that he'd enjoy later.

A twinge of pain erupted through his mind and Blackheart gasped, pressing his palm to his forehead. It went as quickly as it came, but left a shadow of pain.

"You're stalling," Ginny called through laughter. "And I've just seen it!"

He tried to laugh, but felt dizzy as a wave of intense furry crashed over him. He clutched to his broom, feeling himself sway.

"Harry, I caught it." Ginny's voice was like a song in the back of his mind, but he couldn't concentrate over the foggy, disconnected feeling.

And suddenly, he was falling, his head pounding and his eyes going black. He heard someone yell and felt the pinch and pull of the safety harness, but only saw black as the grass of the pitch rushed up to meet him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"So he'll do it?"

Ginny looked over her coffee cup to Percy, who sat across the table. They'd met over breakfast at the Burrow to discuss Order business. Not everyone was present, but Percy, Bill, Ginny, and her parents. Ron had been on shift too early this morning to participate. He'd left the Burrow grumbling about being left out.

"Yes," she said hesitantly and pushed one last bit of fried egg around her plate. "More or less."

"Well, which is it?" Bill asked. "More or less?"

"He'll cooperate," Ginny said, "but on his terms."

Bill and Percy exchanged a look and then both nodded. "It's about what we expected," said Bill. "Anything is better than nothing at this point."

"What do you expect this...person to do?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"He has a sort of uncanny knack for knowing things," Bill said.

"My Auror friend in France says that he has connections all over the globe. If there's something that we need to know about, some advantage that will help us defeat You-Know-Who, then this is the person who can find it for us."

Ginny listened as her mind traced back over the conversation with BH. She still had no idea what to call him, and hadn't remembered to ask at the end of their puzzling communication. The weight of the galleon in her pocket was felt. She hadn't told anyone about it, didn't feel that it was necessary to share that she now had a direct link to someone who was reputed to be highly dangerous. She didn't want to see their faces and try to explain.

This was different than the diary, though. BH was...well, they'd all had dealings with him, and even if his methods were a bit morally questionable, she couldn't argue with his results.

"...it's not as if he can…" Her father trailed off, swallowing thickly, and shook his head. The words "kill Vol-Voldemort" hung in the air, unsaid.

"What if he can?" Ginny asked quietly. "We don't know what he can do, honestly. Or what any of us may have to do."

Silence answered her back and Ginny realized that, just like her, nobody knew what they might be called upon to do for the war effort.

"Enough," their mother scolded. "No more talk of this today. You'd best hurry up or you'll all be late for work."

"Not me," Bill said as he sat back, grinning. "I'm off today."

"Then you can help around here."

Ginny smirked at her brother as his smile fell off, but did nod at his mother. She quickly finished up her breakfast, levitated her dishes to the sink, and began gathering her things.

"Heard you're seeing someone new."

Ginny glared at Bill and peeked a glance at her parents, who were quietly discussing something with Percy. They hadn't heard, thankfully. Her mother would demand that she bring Harry 'round for dinner, and her father would want details that she just didn't have right now. Harry Kilduff was...still a mystery, if she was honest.

"Shhh. Keep your mouth quiet."

He grinned and ran his hand through his long hair. "Why's it a secret?"

"It's not," she hedged. "Just...new."

"Ron said you told him it was serious."

"I told him nothing of the sort," she said as she secured her flight goggles onto her forehead. "I told Harry Potter that it was serious."

"Still on about that, is he?"

SHe snorted and shook her head. "Bloke just can't take a hint. So I stopped giving them. I told him plainly that I"m seeing someone. When he asked if it was serious, I said yes. I'm not sure yet if it is, but…"

"I get it."

"He must have told Ron."

"Well, you'll figure it out. ANd Harry will get over it. What's the new guy like?"

"He's…" She shook her head, trying to decide how to describe Harry. "He's one of the best flyers I've ever seen. Instinctual, even. And he's funny, and kind. He didn't even raise his voice when the broomsmiths mucked up a charm sequence and had the broom bucking around all over the pitch. I would have been screaming at them until their ears fell off. But he just calmly listed the issues and walked away-er, limped away, I guess."

Bill winced and shook his head. "Well, when you do figure it out, bring him 'round."

"So you can all torture him? Not likely. Let me get at least a few weeks with this one before you run him off, yeah?"

"Fair enough." He ruffled her hair and Ginny pinched him in the side before pulling her flight cloak off the peg and opening the door. "Post!" she called out and ducked as the owl delivering the Daily Prophet sailed in.

She apparated to work, secretly thrilled that she and Harry would be spending all day together testing out some top of the line brooms. The day promised to be very enjoyable. And maybe she could get Harry to kiss her again.

Watching Harry fly was almost intoxicating, she decided a while later after they'd gotten off the ground. And he was in a good mood, which helped. Whatever had been holding him back recently seemed to be forgotten, or at least pushed to the back of his mind. Ginny felt sure that he'd be asking her out after work today.

The idea of catching a snitch was intriguing and something she'd toyed with asking him to do with her. They could really go head to head and she could see more of his flying skill.

Just as her fingers closed around the ball, the wings fluttering and tickling, Ginny looked back over her shoulder to see Harry falling toward the ground.

"Harry!"

She let go of the ball and raced toward him. Thankfully, his safety harness caught and he hovered just above the ground, his arms dangling down to brush the tips of the grass.

"Harry, what happened?" She skidded to a stop and rushed toward him, lifting his face. His glasses had fallen off somewhere, and his face was covered with blood. She could hear footsteps pounding toward her as the crew raced to help them, but pulled her wand and squared off against them.

"Don't come any closer! Which one of you hexed him?"

Mr. Morgan finally caught up, breathing hard. He held his hands out toward her. "Now, Ginny. Nobody-"

"Well, something happened," she roared. "He's bleeding."

"Let us just get closer and we can-"

"I'm taking him to St. Mungo's," she said. "Phyll, release us both."

Phyllis lifted her wand and Ginny felt her harness release, the straps cut cleanly in the back. Harry dropped a foot closer to the ground, but Ginny levitated him, rolling him in her arms to keep the blood out of his face. She brushed the hair off his forehead and gasped at the cut there. It was in the shape of a lightning bolt, and right exactly where Harry Potter's scar was.

"What-"

He groaned against her and Ginny tightened her grip. "Hang on, Harry. I'm taking you to St. Mungo's."

"No!" His eyes snapped open, and then closed once more as he winced. His hand found the back of her neck and pulled her close. "Blackheart lives at 12 Grimmauld Place, London. There, Ginny. Take me there."

Her breath caught in her throat and she forced herself not to think what this would mean. She needed to get him out of here, before someone else saw his face.

"Let me help-"

"I've got him." Without a look back, Ginny closed her eyes, wrapped her arms tightly around Harry's chest, and apparated away.

They arrived in a dingy entryway, onto a chipped and faded tile floor that had seen better days. Ginny removed her flight robes and pressed the wadded up fabric to Harry's forehead to try and staunch the bleeding. Her hands shook as she tugged at his own cloak, loosening it from his neck and chest, and removed his gloves.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yeah."

She wanted to scream at him, to rage and demand answers, but the way he held his head and pressed himself against her leg convinced her to let him have a moment.

"Back already?"

Someone called out and Ginny spun on her knees, her wand at the ready. Her hands were covered in Harry's blood, and they shook, but she was capable of defending them both, if needed.

"Did you forget-"

Ginny recognized him immediately from his wanted posters that had been plastered all up and down Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade for years. Rather than wait for him to attack them, Ginny blasted Sirius Black through the wall.

Adrenaline was pumping through her, heart pounding and body shaking, Ginny pulled Harry back behind the half-wall and barricaded them into the small entryway with the decorative table after pushing an old lamp and other various things off the surface. She could protect them best from there, and cover the door, also.

"Ginny?"

Harry groped for her hand and she clutched his fingers. "Did you...did you kill him?"

She could only see one eye from behind the cloak he had pressed to his head, but gasped at the bright green there.

"No."

He lay his head back against the tile and squeezed her hand. "Okay. He's going to be pretty pissed when he wakes up."

"That's…that's Sirius Black," she mumbled.

Harry managed to laugh somehow, but it sounded forced. "Yeah. I know."

"How… Why? I don't understand, Harry." Her mind was swirling, images of Harry falling, her own bloody hands, Black flying through the air… They all mixed and nothing made sense. Above it all, she could see that livid shape on his forehead, and the name Blackheart.

"He's my godfather."

"He's a murderer."

"No. He's not. Ministry propaganda."

She shook her head and peered over the edge of the table. She could see Black's foot there, but he wasn't moving.

"And you're…"

Harry sat up slowly, lowering her ruined cloak and sighing. She got a good look at him now, face smeared with blood. He looked...different, but not, at the same time. There were features there she recognized, but didn't understand how they belonged on this man in front of her, when he looked so much like…

"Blackheart?" she finished.

"Yes." He said it simply and then probed at the open wound on his head. "We've met before."

"And...Harry…"

"Potter. Yes."

"But I don't…" She scooted further from him, trying to tie all the pieces together in her brain. How could he be…?

"I know." He held out his hands toward her, piercing green eyes pleading with her. "I'll try to explain, but...we need to get-"

"Why the hell did you do that!"

The groan from the hallway made them both turn that direction. Harry swore and stood on shaky legs.

"Alright, Sirius?"

"No. I wasn't ready for that. Why…?"

"We have company."

There was silence and then a barked laugh. "Hell of an introduction. Hello, Miss Weasley."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The Ministry was in an uproar, crazier than Ron had ever seen it. He watched people scurry back and forth, eyeing him suspiciously. Ron glanced down at his robes, wondering if he'd spilled something on them, or was wearing them wrong-side out or something. He couldn't see anything to warrant the sort of looks he was getting, however.

"What's with you?" he asked a witch who peered at him from her cubicle. She squeaked but didn't respond as she sank down, disappearing back into her work space once more. "Mental," Ron grumbled.

Conversely, the Auror department was almost dead silent when he entered the doors. His three hour shift patrolling Diagon Alley this morning had been pointless. He was up before the sun, and before any of the shops even opened. The only people he'd seen were sleepy-eyed merchants opening their doors, and a bit of activity down Knockturn Alley. The three hour stints were idiotic, Ron thought, but a part of Robard's new plan to keep the Auror's engaged and aware of what was going on in every corner of Wizarding London. Unfortunately, rotating people in and out so often did just the opposite. Details were missed, and nobody knew what was going on anymore, anywhere. Typical Ministry bureaucracy, Ron huffed.

"Where's Harry?" he asked Seamus as they met in the hallway.

The Irishman gave Ron a piercing look and tilted his head toward the locker room. "Haven't heard, yet?"

Ron's heart sank. "Oh no. What did he do now?"

"Probably best to hear it from him." Seamus shoved a Daily Prophet into Ron's hands and clapped him on the shoulder.

"What?" Ron wanted to demand an answer, but he also wanted to get away from people who were staring at him, also. He glanced down at the crumpled paper, and then did a double take as he saw the headline.

"Wizarding World's Only Hope. The Daily Prophet's Exclusive Interview with The Chosen One, Harry Potter."

Stunned, Ron shook his head and opened it more. Harry's face was pictured there, right under the headline. Ron swore and stuffed the paper into his robe pocket, turning on his heel to find Harry. There had to be some sort of mistake. The press had mostly left Harry alone in the past few years, barring a few off-the-wall stories about his odd habits and love life. He and Ron usually laughed those off. But this…

Ron found him sitting on the bench in front of his open locker, staring at the contents.

"What is this?" He tossed the paper down next to Harry, who didn't move.

"Did you read it?"

"No. I mean, just the headline. I want to know why you're not down there right now, demanding they print a retract-"

"Because it's true."

Ron's mouth went dry as he stared at his friend. "T-true?"

Harry's eyes met his and he rubbed at his scar. "Yeah."

"What did you do?" The truth was beginning to appear, little bit by little bit as Ron's mind placed bits of the puzzle together. Harry had been extremely upset the other day after another argument with Ginny. SHe'd given him the brush-off and he'd spent the evening getting completely pissed. Which meant that Ron spent the next day trying to sober him up and cleaning up the mess in Harry's flat. The next few days had passed with Harry getting increasingly more hostile and distant.

"What I had to do," he said. With a violent shove, Harry slammed his locker closed and ripped the Potter nametag off the front. "I gave them an interview."

"Painted a bloody red target on your back is what you did, you idiot!" Ron wanted to punch something. "I don't understand."

"They need a hero," Harry said. "Well, now they bloody well have one. I'm the Chosen One, Ron."

"Have you been drinking?" Ron peered at him. "Been Confunded?"

"I'm seeing things clearer than ever before, Ron." Harry tossed his Auror robes toward a bin in the corner, pulling on plain black ones. "This is the way it has to be. The prophecy says so."

"Prophecy? What prophecy?" Ron moved to stand in front of the door, blocking Harry from leaving. "What are you on about?"

"The prophecy, Ron. The one that says I have to defeat him."

A sick feeling rushed upward and Ron clamped his jaw down hard. "You…"

"I'm the Chosen One." Harry seemed almost proud, defiant about it. Whenever he got like this, however, Ron knew bad things were coming. They'd been through enough scrapes together for him to recognize it.

"So, you're just going to march off and...what? Kill You-Know-Who?"

Harry's face hardened. "I'm going to go demand that Dumbledore train me, is what I'm going to do. The Ministry offered to have the Hit Wizards-"

Ron groaned and pressed his fingers to his eyes. "Not those blokes. They're…"

"I know. I said no," Harry said. "I want Dumbledore to do it."

"But...work."

"I've been placed on leave. Too much of a security risk." Harry tried to smile, but it was forced and didn't look right on his face. "Besides, I've got better things to be getting on with."

There was a fatalistic sense of foreboding that washed over Ron and he watched as Harry left the room, ducking under Ron's arm.

He waited until Harry was gone before exiting and walking to Seamus' desk. "Get who you can and send them to Hogwarts."

"What're you on about?"

"Just...just do it. We need to stop Harry from doing something stupid."

Blackheart's hands shook as helped Ginny stand. He stepped out into the hallway first, both to shield her, and to reassure her. Although, with the damage she had done to Sirius, he wasn't sure she needed protection of any kind. Perhaps he had underestimated her. She'd protected him twice now in less than five minutes.

"Come on," he said, holding his hand out toward her. "It's safe."

"Harry, I…" But she shook her head and put her hand in his. That was a good sign. At least she hadn't hexed him. Yet.

Sirius was standing in the hallway, brushing dust off his clothes and rotating his neck.

"Alright?"

"I will be." He glanced at Blackheart, and then at Ginny.

Behind him, she swore and tugged at her goggles, just now realizing that she was still wearing them. Blackheart wasn't sure where his had gotten off to, whether he'd pried them off when the pain hit, or if Ginny had removed them back at the hangar.

"Miss Weasley. It's good to meet you." He reached forward to offer a handshake. Ginny eyed it for a minute and then bravely stepped forward.

"You're really not a murderer?"

"Not today," Sirius said.

Ginny nodded and then moved back, closer to Blackheart's side. He could feel her begin trembling as the adrenaline wore off.

"That's a nice look for you." Sirius motioned toward Blackheart's head.

"I'm sure it's highly attractive." he tried to smirk at Ginny, but she wasn't having any of it. Her eyes were growing shiny and Blackheart was worried she might collapse. "Why don't we sit down," he said.

"In here." Sirius indicated the sitting room. "I'll get some tea." They shared a look over Ginny's head. Blackheart needed to tell him what had happened, the pain and the vision he'd seen, but wasn't sure if he could with Ginny clinging to him. Her arms were now wrapped around his middle as they shuffle-stepped toward the sofa.

"Dobby will bring tea."

Ginny gasped as Dobby appeared and Blackheart pulled his arms around her tightly. "It's just Dobby. He's not going to harm anyone."

Ginny nodded and allowed him to guide her to sit.

"Are you okay?" They both asked the question at the same time and Blackheart smiled.

"I will be," he said. "You?"

"I just…" She shook her head, blinking to fight back tears that threatened to fall. "I don't know what happened. I was so scared. I thought...I thought somebody hexed you, or that… I don't know."

"I'll explain," he promised.

Both Sirius and Dobby returned with a tea service. A moist cloth was draped on Dobby's arm and he offered it to Blackheart before summoning his chair to sit closer to Ginny.

"Thank you." Blackheart pressed the cloth to his head and then hissed.

"Let me," Ginny said. Her touch was gentle, and Blackheart felt warm all over.

Sirius began fixing several cups. "What happened?"

"Had a vision. Knocked me off my broom."

"A vision. Strange. Haven't had one of those before."

"Have you…" Ginny shook her head and continued to wipe away drying blood from his face, biting her lip. "This wasn't unexpected?"

Blackheart sighed and reached up to hold her hands in his. "This scar, it connects me to Voldemort. Sometimes-not often-I get dreams, or feel...emotions, I guess you could say."

Her hands stilled, and then fell away as she stared down at them. "If you're Harry Potter…"

"An imposter," Sirius said. "A fake."

"A decoy," Blackheart said, "of sorts."

Ginny pulled her hands away and scowled. "Does he know?"

"No! I mean...I don't think so."

"And you don't think that's cruel? You're putting him in danger-"

Blackheart tried to figure out what he could say to quell her obvious anger. He'd thought she might take more exception over the vigilante persona than the Harry Potter one. Ginny was always surprising him.

"Harry Potter needed to be protected, Miss." Dobby spoke up. He slid his hand into hers, looking up at Ginny with wide eyes. "Miss understands that, I'm sure. The other boy...he was safe, protected."

Ginny looked up at Blackheart, then over at Sirius, as she tried to understand.

"I think the more pressing point is the vision," Sirius said. "The other Harry is safe right now. Nobody knows who he is. Even Dobby won't tell us."

Dobby shook his head, his ears flapping. "It is for his own protection, too.

Ginny huffed and Blackheart knew that the conversation wasn't nearly over. But for now, she would let them talk.

"He knows," Blackheart said. "What we've been doing."

Sirius' eyes grew wide and he sat back heavily in his seat. "Still two more."

"One," Blackheart corrected. "I know where the last one is."

"Where?"

"Hogwarts."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The man was a mess. His hair was badly cut-likely self-inflicted-and his clothes were clean, but threadbare. He looked much, much older than he should, and the little skin that showed was covered with scars. If he looked close enough, Dumbledore knew they would be bite marks. He was thin and gaunt, as if he had not been outside or had a decent meal in a very long time.

"Remus. Please sit."

Dumbledore shared a look with Severus, who hovered like a predatory animal in the back of the room.

"Thank you for coming."

"Your messenger was rather...persuasive." Lupin glanced over his shoulder at Snape, but gave a genuine smile.

"Yes. Well, I was hoping to ask you… Do you know where Harry Potter is right now?"

Remus was genuinely surprised. The cup he'd just picked up shook in his hand, rattling against the saucer.

"The last I'd heard, he was an Auror with the Ministry."

"I wondered if you would keep up with him."

"Always from a distance," Remus said, "as you asked."

Dumbledore considered that. "And you have not seen him since?"

"Not since he was a child." Remus sipped at his steaming cup, sighing when the warmth hit him. It was May, and warm out, but he was still wearing a thin sweater, as if he couldn't quite get warm enough. "May I ask why you felt the need to track me and require me back here to answer questions? I would have answered an owl." He looked toward the window, squinting at the sunlight that streamed through the glass.

"You did not take Harry Potter from the Dursley's when he was young, Remus, and raise him on your own?"

Remus' head snapped to the front and he stared, his eyes narrowing as his mind raced. "What… Why would you ask something like that?"

"And you have not been in contact with Sirius Black?"

"This is why I stay away," Remus said. He finished his tea and set the cup and saucer back on the hovering platter. "England does not hold pleasant memories for me."

"Answer the question."

They both turned to look at Severus.

"Have you been in contact with either of those men?"

"No."

Dumbledore frowned and tried to decide what to do next. He had been so sure… He looked up at Snape, who gave the softest of shakes of his head. No deception. Remus was telling the truth.

"I do not understand," he said aloud. "I thought… But perhaps…"

"Why are you asking me this? Has something happened to Harry? What is this about Sirius? He hasn't been heard from in years, not since his escape. I had assumed he'd gone back to...his master."

"I'm starting to think that Sirius Black was never the Potter's Secret Keeper."

Snape made a sound in the back of his throat, but Dumbledore pressed forward. "If so, he would have gone after Harry by now. He would have finished what Voldemort wanted him to do."

"Who?" Remus looked over his shoulder. "You don't think that I…"

"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "Certain events… Well, things have changed here, Remus. It is possible that Harry Potter is not the person that we thought he was."

He opened his mouth to continue, but the grinding of the staircase made him look up. Professor McGonagall dove into the room, gasping for breath.

"Professor…Hogwarts is under attack!"

Dumbledore jumped so quickly that his knees hit on the underside of his desk. The three men rushed to the window, watching as the sun disappeared behind a large dark cloud. ALong the edges of the grounds, a dark ripple formed.

"Albus," Professor McGonagall said, "it's him. It's You-Know-Who!"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

 **Note:** _It's a fun story! I remember a discussion on reddit a few weeks back about WBWL stories, and I think this one is a fun way to get Harry and Ginny together!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"Hogwarts is under siege."

"Can we get in?"

"This is Padfoot you're talking to. Of course, I can get you in."

"Wait. Padfoot? As in Padfoot, Moony, Prongs and Wormtail?"

They both turned and looked at Ginny.

"How did you-"

"I have a map you made."

Sirius grinned and threw his arm around Ginny's shoulders. "I knew I liked you."

"So we can get in."

"Yes. There are several hidden passages-"

"The one behind the mirror on the fourth floor is collapsed in."

"Damn. Well, okay. One down, but there are more. There's one that connects the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. A bit dangerous, but I think we can make it. There's a knot at the bottom that freezes the tree."

"If it's a siege, then that leaves us open to attack while on the grounds."

They both looked at Ginny again. "Us? Oh, no!" Blackheart shook his head firmly. "You're not-"

"Try to stop me." Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"There's the one through Honeydukes," Sirius said, trying to override the battle of wills going on in front of them. Blackheart and Ginny were staring at each other, both stubbornly crossing their arms.

"Have you even been inside the castle?" Ginny asked.

Blackheart's face flushed and he adjusted his spare glasses. "No. Definitely not."

Sirius smirked at the lie.

"Besides Fred and George," she continued, "there's not another person who knows it better than I do. And, I still have the map."

"But not with you."

"No, of course not, but I could get it there."

"We don't need the map." Sirius pointed to himself. "Padfoot, remember?"

"We still don't know what we're walking into, or how we're going to get in."

"Dobby could take you."

They all froze and looked down at Dobby, whom they had forgotten was even present in their haste to plan.

"Brilliant idea," Blackheart said.

"It worked last time," Sirius agreed.

"Dobby would be happy to do it, Masters and Miss. Dobby will take Master and Miss, then come back for Master Black."

Ginny looked a little worried at the prospect, so Sirius leaned over. "No need to worry. House elf magic isn't like regular magic."

"As long as we don't splinch."

"It's fine," Blackheart said. "I've done it before." Sirius noticed that he'd stopped arguing with her about going. At least he'd learned that lesson early. It had taken James many times before he stopped trying to get Lily to listen to his demands.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

A heavy moment passed between them and Blackheart looked at him, determination and fear warring for dominance. This was an entirely different game than the spying and keeping to the shadows he'd been doing for years. This was a possible confrontation with a madman.

Dobby stepped between Blackheart-Harry. Sirius decided that if there was any moment that he needed to remember to call Harry by his name, this was it. There would be no more hiding after tonight. They stood across from Sirius, Dobby holding each of their hands and disappeared.

Before Dobby could return, Sirius slipped a dark cloak around his shoulders and made sure his wand was in place. He gave one last look around the kitchen and thought about this house that he had hated for so long. He was no longer a prisoner, and yet...he felt anxiety about leaving, also. Thankfully, he didn't have to ponder it long. Dobby appeared and took his hand.

"Ready, Master Sirius?"

"Let's go."

They appeared in the kitchen and Sirius laughed as the house elves were greeting Ginny fondly while peering with wide eyes and awed expressions at Harry. Dobby had obviously been telling stories.

"Let's go find the old...er...Headmaster," Sirius said, quickly correcting himself. No need to ruffle any feathers right at first.

The hallways were bedlam as students were being hustled along the passages by frantic prefects and professors. Over it all, they could hear the commands of Professor McGonagall, magically amplified, telling them to proceed with caution and haste to the dungeons.

"Why aren't they evacuating?" Ginny asked. She was clinging to Harry's hand, her eyes wide.

"Not enough time," Harry said. "They should be fine down there."

The scowl on her face said that she didn't agree, but they had bigger problems right now than hundreds of kids. There was a horcrux to find hidden somewhere in the castle. And after that, a great bloody snake to kill.

Sirius had called dibs on the snake, but Harry had made no promises.

"Where do we even begin to look?"

"Sirius Black!"

They came face to face with Minerva McGonagall, who had her wand pulled and stuck right in Sirius' face.

"Professor!" Ginny threw herself between them. "It's okay, Professor. This has all been a big mistake. Sirius is...well, he's not who you think he is."

"Miss Weasley, have you been hexed?! This man is…"

"Not a fugitive," Harry said. The professor glanced at him and then paled.

"Oh, dear me."

"Uncanny, isn't it?" Sirius said.

"I would have sworn it was James," she muttered. "But...but the eyes."

"Yes. He has Lily's eyes."

"Professor, we're here to help," Ginny said. "We need to speak with Professor Dumbledore.

"And we need to find something," Harry said. "A crown, or a...what do you call it? A woman wears it?"

"A tiara?" Ginny asked.

"A diadem," Professor McGonagall said. "Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem?"

Harry clapped his hands together. "Yes! That's it. Do you know where it is?"

"Well, it hasn't been seen in ages," she trailed off and growled at several young boys who were holding up the procession through the hallway. "Ralphs and Stevens, move along now before I report you to your Head of House." Her gimlet glare got them moving along quicker and she turned back.

"Would anyone know?" Ginny asked.

"Perhaps the Grey Lady," McGonagall said helplessly. "But I couldn't say-"

"Thank you!" Harry said quickly. He took Ginny's hand and tried to force his way along the passage, going against the flow of bodies.

"Thanks," Sirius said.

Her mouth pursed into a tight expression. "Mr. Black. I didn't want to believe it, when I'd heard."

He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded. There would be time to deal with all of this later.

"Oh, and Sirius...do be prepared…"

He blinked at her, but she spun and began herding more students along. He found Harry and Ginny standing before the tall gargoyle.

"What are we waiting for?"

Harry looked rather abashed. "We don't know the password."

An unearthly glow from across the hall startled them. Several of the ghosts were standing near the tall, thin windows, looking out over the grounds.

Sirius rushed over and pressed his face to the glass to be able to see the front of the grounds where spell fire was coming from. He could only see a part, as it was facing the wrong direction, but the idea that Voldemort and his followers had breached the gate sunk something horrible deep inside him. A golden-orange glow grew and flickered long shadows on the grounds. It had to be Hagrid's hut on fire.

"We're out of time. You two find the diadem. I'll talk to Dumbledore."

The ghosts were watching them, floating just above the stones with forlorn faces.

"Won't you help us, please?" Ginny begged. "Please, Grey Lady!"

Sirius turned to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor Ghost. "Wouldn't happen to know the password, would you?"

Nick glanced at the gargoyle and made a face. "For you, scalawag?!"

"Of course," Sirius said. "Remember when we made you an honorary Marauder? And James used to save you bits of rotting meat?"

The ghost seemed to shift uncomfortably before he melted into the passage wall. Sirius swore to himself, wondering what he'd done to piss off a ghost, but then the gargoyle began to slide.

Harry turned to him. "We know where it is. Well, Ginny does!"

Ginny grinned up at both of them. "As soon as she described the room, I knew right where she meant. Fred and George stored loads of their contraband in there. It may take us a bit once we're in there, but we'll manage."

"Harry, if you weren't standing right there, I would kiss your girlfriend." Sirius leaned down and kissed her forehead anyway, earning a laugh from Harry. "Meet back here when you've taken care of it. I'll try to smooth things over with…" He gestured toward the open passageway and grimaced. "Want to trade?"

But Harry and Ginny were already gone, racing off down the deserted hallway.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Sirius took a deep breath and bounded up the stairs. When he entered the Headmaster's office, he found three men with their backs toward him, watching the scene unfold outside the window.

"It would seem, Headmaster," Severus Snape's voice said, "that your faith in the Boy Who Lived was misplaced."

SIrius didn't say anything, but came up to stand next to Dumbledore, watching as someone who looked an awful lot like Harry was struck down by a flash of green light by Voldemort himself.

"Was that…"

"I'm afraid…"

"That's not Harry."

All three of them turned to look at him and startled as they realized who he was.

"Sirius?!"

"Black."

"That's not Harry," Sirius said, pointing down at the body lying on the grass not far from Hagrid's burning hut.

Ron watched from the open doors of the castle, held back by Seamus and George. If they hadn't had such a grip on him, Ron knew he'd be dead also. He closed his eyes, seeing the green spell come toward Harry over and over again.

It had only been an hour since Harry had left the Ministry. Ron had caught up with him in Hogsmeade as he broke into Honeydukes to use the hidden passageway. They'd argued and fought the entire way as Ron begged Harry to reconsider facing Voldemort. But Harry was determined and adamant that the prophecy would protect him.

George and Seamus, along with a few others-Fred, Hermione, Bill, Neville, Luna, and even Percy-had followed the passageway, also, breaking into the castle.

Spellfire broke out near the castle gates and Ron had to turn his head rather than watch as Hagrid roared and took off toward the front of the charge.

"Come on," George said. "We can't do anything about it right now."

"But...Harry." Ron gestured to the black heap of robes laying all alone in the middle of the green grass.

"We can get him later," Hermione said. She laid her hand on Ron's shoulder and for the first time, Ron found he didn't want her to touch him.

"It's chaos out there, mate," Seamus said.

"I'll go out," Neville said quietly. "I can go through the greenhouse, slowly levitate him inside. He'll...he'll be safe in there. " Without waiting for an answer, Neville turned and stalked away. Ron wanted to follow, but George wouldn't let go of him.

"I'll go," Percy said.

"We need to tell Mum and Dad," Bill said, his voice breaking. "Let them know…"

"Some Chosen One." One of the Aurors that had come with them scoffed. Ron turned to hex her, but saw the tear tracks running down her face and couldn't lift his wand.

He understood the despair, and even disillusionment she felt. Harry was supposed to be the Chosen One. He was supposed…

A sob burst out of Ron and he leaned heavily on George.

"Come on. Let's go help fortify the castle."

Bill closed the doors and began charming them, layering spell after spell. Hermione joined him, listening to his patient instructions and following his lead. Ron shut his eyes and let George lead him away. Luna came up on his other side and slid her hand into his, clinging to him, resting her head on his arm as they walked.

"It will be alright, Ron," she whispered.

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

Harry felt like kissing Ginny, right in the middle of the chaos and stacks of junk they were surrounded by. Once he'd described the diadem he'd seen in Voldemort's vision, Ginny had led him straight to it.

"I allowed Sirius to kiss you earlier," he said, leaning down to press his lips to her ear. "But I hated every second of it, because it wasn't me doing it."

Ginny grinned up at him, hooking her arms around his middle. "What's stopping you now?"

"Maybe a war going on outside the castle?"

The reminder was like a bludger to the chest and Harry took a deep breath in before lowering his head. To hell with the war. Neither of them had a guarantee of coming out of this alive. Harry was going to take the moment.

Ginny melted into him and Harry pushed all of his responsibilities and worries to the back of his mind, allowing his emotions to rule. They broke apart, breathless, and watching each other with wide eyes.

"We'd better get back."

"Yeah."

"A part of me wants to just take you and disappear."

"We can't."

"I know. But I still want to."

"I know."

They turned, much more solemn now. Harry tucked the diadem into his robe pocket and intertwined their hands as they left the Room of Hidden Things. They walked, determined, but measured steps to the seventh floor corridor. Stopping just before the open gargoyle, Harry looked down at her once more.

"Last chance," he whispered.

She went up on her toes and kissed him again.

"See?" A voice said from behind them. "That's Harry. Getting his face sucked off."

They broke apart abruptly and turned to see Sirius, grinning, and pointing at them. Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape were gaping.

"Ginny?"

From the other direction, another group were coming up the corridor, led by Bill and Percy Weasley.

"What're you doing here?"

"And who...?"

"Harry?!" Ron goggled at Harry before fainting completely to the floor.

Ginny pressed her face into his jumper and clung to him, whether in embarrassment or fear, he didn't know

"Guess it's time to explain," Harry mumbled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the horcrux, giving it a look before tossing it in Dumbledore's direction. The Headmaster caught it and stared at it. "Might want to take care of that."

"Good heavens."

HPHPHPHPHPHP

 **Note:** _Any guesses on what the title means yet?_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Remus didn't understand a bit of what was going on. If that wasn't Harry Potter down there on the ground, then who was it? And why was Sirius so convinced that it wasn't, when both Snape and Dumbledore believed it was so?

Twenty years of emotions warred within him. He should hex that lying, betraying… But then, this was _Padfoot_. His best friend. How could he have? Did he?

He looked up to see those grey, fathomless eyes and felt himself lost. He was immediately twelve again, alone on the train joined by Sirius and James. Then fifteen, when his best friends showed him their Animagus forms and swore to be with him during the next full moon. And twenty-one, pacing with Sirius in the hallway, waiting for news of Harry's birth.

"Moony." Padfoot clasped his arm in the way he used to, grasping his elbow. Remus' hand met his elbow and his fingers curled automatically, wiping away the years.

"Harry?"

"He's fine," Padfoot whispered. "I promise." There was a sparkle to his eyes that Remus hadn't expected.

"He's been with you all these years?"

"The same question I was about to ask, Mr. Black."

Sirius looked at the Headmaster and his shoulders sunk a little. "No. Not the entire time. I was only with him after...well…" He broke off and ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair. "It's a long story."

"I'm sure we have time-" Remus said.

"As touching as this all is," Snape sneered, "the castle is under attack."

Sirius' eyes narrowed in on Snape and the corners of his lips twitched like they used to when face their old nemesis. "Yeah, Snivellus, don't you have somewhere to be? Run off and join your master."

"Sirius."

Snape didn't rise to the jab, surprising Remus. Perhaps the years had tempered all of them more than he'd expected.

"Don't worry, old man," Sirius said, his eyes never leaving Snape. "I know all about your spies. All of them." He finally turned his head and gave Dumbledore a knowing look.

"How are we to trust him, Headmaster?" Snape asked. "This could be a trap."

"I can take you to Harry right now."

Remus' heart thumped in his chest. Harry. He hadn't seen him since he was young-five or six. Remus hadn't been able to stop himself from taking a train to Surrey, walking the streets during a rainstorm, and watching for two days straight from various locations until he caught a glimpse of the little black-haired, skinny boy. It had torn his heart out so much that he'd walked away and left England, vowing never to return.

To see him now...fully grown…

Sirius strode toward the door, gesturing for them to follow "...he and Ginny Weasley were just…" They all stopped on the stairs when Sirius did. He glanced back over his shoulder and then gestured to the couple kissing passionately in the middle of the corridor.

"See?" he said. "That's Harry. Getting his face sucked off."

The tall man pulled away from the red-headed woman and looked up at them. Remus gasped at how much he looked like James. It was like being thrown back in time, or staring at a ghost.

The exchange that followed made no sense to Remus, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Sirius and James-Harry!-as they greeted each other. Whoever the woman was, she wasn't going to disengage from Harry's side no matter what. And Harry didn't seem to mind at all.

"Let us take this to my office," Dumbledore said.

"Headmaster…"

Remus watched the silent conversation take place between Snape and Dumbledore until Snape gave a firm nod and excused himself, hurrying away. Sirius watched him go, a strange look on his face.

"Coming?" Remus asked, gesturing to the doorway.

"Yeah. It's good to see you, Moony."

"I admit, I'm completely lost about what has happened here." They both watched the large group disappear up the stairs until it was just the two of them.

"You'll never believe it, Moony. If I hadn't lived it, neither would I."

"Harry?"

Sirius' face split into a smile that was such a remnant of the boy he once was, that it made Remus ache inside. "Harry." He clapped Remus on the shoulder and nudged him forward.

Once inside, all eyes were on Harry as he stood facing Dumbledore, a dark expression on his face.

"You sacrificed him."

"Harry…"

"You should have told him when you suspected."

"You could have done so, as well."

"You know that was impossible."

"What am I missing?" Remus asked Sirius. Sirius opened his mouth but just shook his head.

"Harry." Ginny broke into the argument, her hand coming to rest on Harry's arm. "You'll have to explain."

Remus looked around the room, glad that he wasn't the only one who seemed lost. Lots of faces had bewildered expressions. One red-headed man was propped in a chair in the corner, his face pressed into the wall. Remus opened his mouth to ask what that was all about, but Harry started speaking and drew his attention away.

"I was to be placed with my Aunt and Uncle after my parents were murdered by Voldemort."

Even Remus winced at the name, but Harry pushed through, ignoring the reaction. "But...someone...did not think it was a safe enough place. He took me, raised me, taught me, and protected me."

"Who-"

Harry's look quelled Dumbledore's question and Harry continued.

"When I was thirteen, I found out that I had a godfather. I saved him from being hunted down by the Ministry and he's been helping me ever since.

Sirius winked at Harry and leaned back against the wall, casually crossing his foot in front of the other and folding his arms across his chest.

"I worked to help other people, to...fix problems, injustices that I saw or heard about."

"Merlin." The tallest redheaded man exchanged looks with others in the room. "You're the Phoenix."

"Phoenix?" Remus said. "What's that?"

"Ombragė?" Another redhead asked.

"Blackheart," Ginny whispered.

The two twins exchanged a look. "Cor," they both said together.

Suddenly, a story that Remus had heard during his travels around Europe came to mind. A rumor spread about a wizard that one could summon to take care of problems. Remus had never believed it, or even paid it much mind.

"Turba Malum," Dumbledore said softly.

Harry looked at him and nodded.

Remus' forehead creased. "Turba…" He trailed off and looked across the room to the man who had been his best friend. "Oh, Sirius."

Sirius gave an unrepentant shrug and Remus had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. Showing amusement only encouraged such behavior, history had taught him.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ron woke slowly, but didn't move from his spot in the corner. He opened his eyes, barely, and listened as the man who stood next to Dumbledore explained.

This was Harry Potter, the real Harry Potter.

A cavity in his chest continued to ache. If this was Harry...then who had he been friends with the past eight years?

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Bill shook his head as he tried to reconcile all of this. It made no sense. It made perfect sense. He and Percy shared a bewildered look and then turned to look at the man-Harry Potter-again. They'd compared notes on the shadowy figure that had helped them both, but come away with only remnants of memories.

Percy was convinced that there was some sort of charm on the card that the man had handed them that wiped their memories. Bill wasn't sure, but it was possible.

But how had Ginny gotten mixed up in all of this? She'd only met him while on Order business, hadn't she?

Unless... Was this her new bloke? Bill wasn't sure how he felt about that.

George felt Hermione twitch next to him and knew she was about to burst from so many questions rising inside her. He watched as Fred patted her knee in empathy and winked at her.

Ron was still passed out in the corner, and, for a moment, George envied him. He would have a hard time understanding it all when he woke, but for now, maybe it was best that he didn't have to look at Harry and be reminded of...Harry.

He shook his head and tried to wrap it all up in his mind. Two Harry Potters, countless secret identities, spies, escaped convicts, secret missions…. It was all so much.

There were large missing gaps, he knew, things that Harry wasn't ready to divulge, and things that Dumbledore was probably keeping hidden, too. Strangely, George was okay with that. There was enough to be getting on with as it was.

Neville couldn't help but stare at Harry's scar. It felt strange calling him that, when he and Percy had just hidden Harry's body. He had to shake his head as the thought settled in his mind. Harry was dead. But he was also standing in front of them.

They'd hidden Harry's body well, tucked him deep between some of Professor Sprout's most venomous plants, and covered him with burlap to help disguise the body. As Neville had been putting the final bag in place, he'd sworn he saw a flash of blond hair, but forced the thought out of his mind.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"May I speak with you privately, Harry?"

"Sure."

Harry gave Ginny one last look as Sirius and Bill herded everyone out the door, leaving the office mostly empty. Just before they left, Sirius and Harry exchanged a look. Harry knew that Sirius understood.

He clapped Remus on the shoulder. "Moony, how do you feel about hunting for snake?"

Harry couldn't watch them go. He turned and looked at the darkness outside the window. The Order was holding off Voldemort's forces admirably, but it was only a matter of time.

"You think I'm a monster."

"You should have stopped him."

"Mr. Potter- I mean… I don't even know what to call him." Dumbledore sat on the edge of his desk, shaking his head. "He made his own decisions. I could not have stopped him, even if I had known…"

Harry swore and moved toward the window, looking out. "That's a lie. You had doubts before you told him about the prophecy."

"You know about the prophecy?"

He spun and stared at the Headmaster. "I know one exists. I don't know the exact wording."

"You could have stopped him, as well."

A fissure of guilt opened inside Harry and he knew that Dumbledore was right. He could have. He should have.

"Whatever's in that prophecy convinced him that he could face Voldemort."

"His interpretation of it, yes."

The wording was carefully chosen and Harry wanted to scream. He hated when Dumbledore did this to him. It gave him new insight into when he did it to others, and how infuriating it must be for them. He'd never looked at it that way.

"Tell me."

Dumbledore recited the wording and Harry took it in. "And how do the horcruxes play into all of this?"

"You've been destroying them."

"He knows. That's why he's here." Harry looked at the diadem that sat on Dumbledore's desk. "That's the last one, besides the snake."

"Then you've already proven his downfall."

"Why did I survive?"

"Love."

It was a simple answer, too simple. And yet, there was truth in it that Harry could understand. He was only just starting to see how love might be the answer.

"And how do I…" He couldn't finish the question.

"I think you may know."

Harry turned and looked out the window once more. "That's what the Hallows were about? Giving me a chance at surviving?"

"It was an idea." Dumbledore moved to the back of his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a shiny, silver fabric, resting it on the desk. From his finger-the one with a deadened, grey tip-he took the ring they'd retrieved together, and set it next to the cloak.

"The wand?"

Dumbledore held up his own.

"Why send Percy Weasley all over Europe to find it, if you already had it?" he asked.

The Headmaster seemed surprised. His eyebrows rose and he thought about it for a long minute.

"You have your spies," Harry said. "I have mine."

"There are always rumors and legends, Mr. Potter. Perhaps I wanted one last reassurance that the wand I had was the correct one."

"You can't just give it to me."

"No. It must be taken."

Harry swallowed thickly and looked out the window again. "I cannot kill you."

"Death doesn't have to be the answer," Dumbledore said. "Disarming will work just fine."

Harry tried to remember the story and legends about the wand. Was it enough just to take the wand? Would it's allegiance then pass to Harry?"

"I think you'll find that facing a wizard like Voldemort might be best done with a wand, and not relying only upon House Elf magic."

Harry almost smiled. Spies, indeed. He raised his hand and disarmed the Professor, watching as the wand flew into his hand. It didn't feel any different to him, but then again, he had never had a real wand, just a simple stick that Dobby had given him at age five when he began teaching Harry magic.

"It must be a sacrifice."

His heart pounded strongly and Harry wondered how many beats were left. "Then the snake is not the last…"

"No."

"How long have you known?"

"I suspected, nothing more."

"Then how can you be sure?"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered upward to the wound on Harry's head. "I am sure."

And so was Harry.

He was a horcrux, created the night that Voldemort had murdered his parents. Likely, not even realized by Voldemort.

"I don't know if I can do this," Harry said.

"We all have our choices, Mr. Potter. Your friends will continue to fight."

"And die." Harry tightened his grip on the Elder wand, his fingers going numb from the tension.

"Probably."

"You really are a bastard."

"Would you have done any differently?"

"I would have stopped that boy from dying," Harry said, even though he wasn't sure if it was true.

He clenched his jaw, shoved the wand into his pocket, slid the ring onto his finger, and wrapped his fingers into the demiguise fabric of the cloak.

"Goodbye, Dumbledore."

"Goodbye, Harry."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"No!"

Ron wrapped his arm around Ginny's middle, taking the blows of her hands and feet as she writhed against him. He watched, for a second time, as Harry Potter walked out the doors of Hogwarts castle to his death.

He didn't understand any of this, but there was something in it all that told him he had to have faith. That this was what needed to happen. If this was truly Harry Potter, then this was the Chosen One, not his friend. And maybe this time…

"Let me go, Ron, or I swear I will hex you until you never walk again."

"Ginny." He held her even tighter, burying his face in her hair as she screamed after Harry. The doors of the castle were thrown open wide. Flashes of light erupted above them on the shield of the castle, threatening to collapse it completely.

Somehow, Vol-Vol-You-Know-Who had discovered that he hadn't killed the right Harry Potter and had begun attacking once more. Either that or his supposed victory over the Chosen One had never been his complete goal. The submission of the entire Wizarding World, starting with Hogwarts was.

Ron felt arms wrap around him as George trapped Ginny between them. Bill was next. Ron looked up and realized that he and Bill were the same height, something he hadn't noticed before. Percy and Fred joined them, and Ron stopped looking up. He just held onto Ginny and hoped that they would all live through the day.

Sirius watched through Padfoot's eyes as Harry walked across the open ground toward the forest. He counted each step.

"What is he doing?"

Remus stepped forward, chest heaving as he saw Harry. He left the body of Severus Snape on the ground, dead from an attack by Nagini while trying to allow Remus and Sirius to kill her.

Padfoot looked down at the snake they'd just killed. He morphed back into himself and sat, spitting out the acrid blood in his mouth.

"Harry knows what he's doing."

Remus gaped at him. "What?"

"Trust him."

"You can't…" Remus took another step, determination filling his face. "We have to…"

"Trust him."

It tore Sirius' heart out to say it, but ever since Harry had begun having the dreams and visions, Sirius had suspected that there was some sort of connection there. When they'd discovered the horcruxes, he'd started digging, reading everything he could about them. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment, however, watching the man he loved like a son walk into the forest to sacrifice himself.

"We've done our part," he said as he stood and kicked the body of the snake. "It's his turn."

"And then what?"

"And then we finish the bastard."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

He was trembling all over. His hand was so sweaty that he feared he might drop the wand completely. Not that it mattered. He didn't think the Hallows would do anything to save him, even if he was the master of all three now. The weight of the ring on his finger felt awkward and strange. He thought for a moment about calling his parents to him, but shook his head.

Instead, he slid the ring off and let it fall to the forest floor, stepping on it to push it into the soft mud there. He didn't need to seen them to understand the love they'd had for him.

He looked back over his shoulder to the outline of the castle. If he looked close enough, he knew he would see the Weasleys in the doorway. And Ginny. But he didn't allow himself to look, or to see Sirius at the edge of the forest. One look at the great black dog covered in blood was enough to let Harry know that his path was now clear.

It was time.

He tugged the cloak off and pushed it into the pocket of his robes, not sure why it mattered to keep it. Step by step, he continued through the forest until he came upon the small band of Voldemort's followers. They were surrounding a man who knelt in front of them, his white hair long and stringy, down to his elbows. His face was gaunt, almost skeletal, and white, eyes protruding as he stared up at Voldemort.

"It is true."

"I told you, my lord."

Harry wasn't sure, but he thought the man was Lucius Malfoy, one of the escaped convicts from Azkaban. Something nudged at the back of his mind about Malfoy-he'd been convicted of breaking into wizarding homes, searching for his son, if Harry remembered right.

"I told you. You did not kill Harry Potter."

"Silence."

Malfoy shook all over as he stared at Harry, a strange look on his face. Voldemort slowly approaching Harry, his wand held outward, pointing menacingly.

"Harry Potter, come to die." Voldemort laughed toward his followers, who jeered and circled around them.

Harry did not respond, but also did not raise his wand. Instead, he stared at his parents' killer and waited. The flash of green came quickly, but it slow motion, as well. He watched it strike him in the chest, expecting to feel pain. It did not come. The force of the spell spun him and landed on the ground, face down. The wind was knocked out of him and he struggled to catch his breath. He tried to understand why he was still alive. Was he? Was this what death was? Instead, he thought about those he was saving and waited for the darkness to envelop him. He thought of bright brown eyes, a warm embrace, and the feel of Ginny's lips on his. And darkness won, taking him under.

"Harry."

His name was like a whisper, full of warmth and peace. Somehow, he thought this was what he expected from death.

He no longer hurt. And while he could remember what he'd left behind, there was a fogginess to his thoughts that distanced him from it.

"Harry."

The touch of soft fingers woke him fully and he opened his eyes to see a beautiful woman, who he'd only known through photographs, looking down at him.

"Where am I?"

"You're with me," his mother said. Her fingers brushed his hair away from his face, lightly touching his scar. He waited for a look of revulsion to come over her face, but it did not come. Instead, there was only love and acceptance.

"Did I die?"

"Yes."

Harry thought about that. Flashes of what had happened came to him, Dumbledore's words that his death needed to be a sacrifice echoing.

"Did it work?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes and relaxed back into the softness of a bed he'd just now realized he was laying in.

"We are proud of you, son."

His father's voice came and he smiled, looking up to see James standing behind Lily, his hands on her shoulders. His face was so similar to what Harry saw when he looked in the mirror that it was shocking.

"Sirius told me that I looked like you," he said. "I thought…"

"You thought he was lying?" James smiled.

"Mis-remembering."

"Ah. Yes, the mind can play tricks at times."

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. "Is everyone...did...are they okay?"

"We don't know," his mother said. She shook her head softly and Harry watched her hair flow around her shoulders. It was red, but not the bright, coppery color of Ginny's.

The thought of Ginny brought a tightening in his chest. He missed her already, and it felt like days or weeks since he'd held her, not only minutes or hours.

"Can I go back?"

Surprisingly, the question did not bring anger or even displeasure to their faces. Instead, they smiled all the more.

"Your destiny is your own to choose, Harry."

"I want to stay...but…"

His mother's hand covered his. "We understand."

"It's okay, Harry. You can go."

Harry took a moment to study their faces, try to memorize the feel of his mother's skin on his own, and the way his father's eyes crinkled at the corners. When he could stand the tightening in his chest no longer, he closed his eyes.

Harry woke but did not open his eyes yet. He could feel the cold, moist forest floor beneath him, the dig of Dumbledore's wand into his chest and the pinch of his arm as it lay twisted, hear the muffled movement and cheers of the Death Eaters behind him. He was back in the forest, unsure how much time had passed.

A hand pressed against his back, weight holding him down, long white hair draping across his face.

"Was it my son?"

The words were barely a whisper against his ear, the warmth of the the breath raising hairs on his face and neck. Lucius Malfoy.

Harry remembered seeing the heap of robes on the grounds, and the dark haired man who had been magiced to look like Harry lying in them. "Yes," he breathed. Shaking fingers pressed to his neck, as if feeling for a pulse, and then the weight disappeared.

"He is dead, my lord."

Harry opened his eyes and clasped his fingers around the wand, determination filling him. If he wasn't going to die today, he was certainly going to make sure Voldemort did. He shifted and prepared to kill the man standing in triumph across from him.

His movement alerted Voldemort, and the wizard's eyes filled with rage.

"No!"

The second killing curse came as Harry cast a spell to disarm. The two spells met, locking together in a violent clash of light and colors. Harry's arm shook and he clasped the Elder wand with both hands, forcing the spell back toward Voldemort. He'd felt powerful magic before, but nothing like this

Around him, jets of light flashed as the Order of the Phoenix arrived. Harry could hear them calling to him, urging him to hang on. His entire body ached and he poured everything he had into the connection, forcing the spell back toward the monster. It moved closer and closer, making Voldemort stumble as he roared. Just as it reached him, Voldemort tipped back violently and a blinding light exploded in the forest and Harry felt the sweet release of blackness overtake him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"It's only been a day, Ginny. He'll wake."

"Harry, there are people waiting to talk to you."

"Master, please wake."

"My dear boy. You have done it!"

"I wish I understood this. Any of it."

"You think he'd be made of sterner stuff."

"Sirius is telling all sorts of stories about you, Harry. You need to wake up and set the story straight."

"He does not look as I remembered him. Are you sure this is the same Monsieur Ombragė?"

"Maybe the bloke just needs a nap, ever think of that? I know I'd want a nap after all of that."

"I'm going to kiss your girlfriend again, Harry."

It might be wrong to have crawled into Harry's bed with him, but Ginny didn't care. She hadn't slept more than a few minutes since everything had happened. The need to be next to Harry, to keep her eyes on him, lest he disappear again, was too overwhelming.

Hermione had tried to lecture her that it was too early in their relationship to be feeling this way. And Ginny knew that if her mother had any idea where Ginny currently was, she'd be branded a scarlet woman and lectured about the proper way a young lady acted.

None of that mattered when she'd laid down next to Harry and he'd reached for her, even in his sleep. Here, she could hear his breathing, feel the strong beat of his heart beneath her hand, and reassure herself that he was real.

She dozed, in and out, one foot hanging out of the comforter because Harry was a hot sleeper. The only one who had seen her was Dobby, who had placed himself at the door to the dormitory, standing guard. He'd let her inside with a knowing smile and promised that they would not be disturbed.

Harry's hand in her hair woke her, and Ginny blinked up at him. But his eyes were still closed, and she thought he was dreaming. SHe let her fingers trace the line of his nose, and then gently brushed the scar, now scabbed over. It stood out prominently on his forehead and she wondered what type of magic he'd used to hide it all these years. It wasn't anything like the Harry she knew-who was really a boy named Draco Malfoy, it turned out.

It was all still so confusing. And Ron wasn't taking any of it well. He was surly and snapped at everyone. No, that wasn't true. He would talk to George and Luna, but not even their parents could seem to make headway in getting him to talk. When Ginny tried, he'd just walked away from her. Her father had patted her on the shoulder and asked her to give Ron time while he grieved.

Ginny let her fingers glide over Harry's cheekbones, and down to his lips. He stirred when she touched them, and pulled her closer when she leaned in and kissed him. The kiss wakened him more, and he returned it, his hands grasping and clutching in a way that made Ginny want to lose control.

"Harry."

He hummed her name, blinking sleepy eyes, his lips turning up at the corners.

"Not how I expected to wake up."

"You've been asleep for more than two days."

His eyes went wide and he reached over her to the bedside table, fumbling for his glasses. Something clattered to the floor; she thought it might be the wand he'd used.

"Two days." He thought about that before leaning in and kissing her again. Ginny clung to him, lifting the edge of his pyjama shirt to touch the skin there. He flinched-ticklish, it seemed-but didn't break the kiss. Ginny decided it was worth pushing her luck a little and ran her hands up onto his chest. This time the flinch was accompanied with a groan of pain. Ginny pulled back and blinked at him.

"Sorry." He pulled away and tugged his shirt down.

"Let me see, Harry."

"It's early," he mumbled.

She scowled. "It's nearly noon. And what does the time-"

"I meant...early for us." His cheeks flamed and she shook her head as she realized what he'd thought she meant with her exploring hands and eagerness to see his chest.

"You're hurt," she said. "I want to see."

"Oh."

The moment grew awkward before Harry shook his head. "Sorry, I just… I thought you meant…"

"It is early. And we're not ready. At least, I'm not yet."

"Okay." This seemed to mollify him and he began to slowly unbutton the top. "This is where-"

"The curse," she whispered. The bruise there was dark and angry, spreading across his chest and ribs. She wondered if there would be another scar, but didn't feel right in asking. Quickly, he buttoned his shirt back up and pulled away slightly, looking up at the dark red canopy above him.

"I died." It was said as if he'd just remembered, or possibly just realized. Ginny wasn't sure the exact sequence of events that had happened in the forest between watching Harry leave and when she'd finally convinced the Order to help him.

"I know," whispered Ginny.

"I saw my parents. But...I wanted to come back. I...I needed to come back."

"I'm so glad you did." She tried to hide the tear that slipped out and ran down her cheek.

He turned to her. "I don't know what to do now."

The wonder in his voice made her laugh a little. "You do what you want, Harry."

"I don't…" He shook his head. She could tell that his mind was racing, thoughts flowing in and out, churning wheels.

"Harry." She rested her hand on his cheek, pulling his focus back to her. "You do what you want. Not what you're supposed to do, or what some prophecy says. You fly a little, kiss me a little, have a pint if you want one…"

"Okay."

She lay back down in his embrace, careful not to put any pressure on his bruised chest. Madam Pomfrey hadn't said anything about broken bones that she'd overheard.

"I think I could kiss you a lot."

Ginny smiled and slipped two fingers between the buttons of his shirt, resting them on his sternum, in the place where the bruise was most angry.

"Ginny...is everyone…"

"We're okay. You know about Har-Draco. And Snape."

"I saw them."

"George got a burn to his face." She shuddered at the memory of the nasty red welt. "We'll always be able to tell them apart now."

"Fred lost two fingers. Not even sure how that happened. He might have blown them off himself, barmy ass. He and Seamus were using explosives. Madam Pomfrey offered to try to regrow them, but Fred won't hear any of it."

"You?"

"Minor cuts and scrapes."

Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead and left his lips there, his breathing deepening as he slipped off to sleep again.

It took the rest of the day to get him on his feet, but he was tired of being waited on and babied. Sirius hadn't stopped taking the piss the entire time, but when he'd walked in and found Ginny and Harry kissing again, he'd congratulated Harry on using the situation in the wisest way possible. Ginny had hexed him and they'd heard him tap dancing all the way down the dormitory stairs.

Harry forgot to respond to his name sometimes and found himself restless, waiting for some mission, or something else to draw his attention. He knew he should talk to Dumbledore, but

Neither of them seemed inclined to have the conversation, so Harry didn't push.

He was sitting in the stands at the half-destroyed Quidditch pitch, watching George, Bill, and Ginny chase each other around on brooms when Ron came to sit next to him. Ron hadn't said a word to Harry since he'd woken, in fact he usually left the room when Harry entered.

And Harry couldn't blame him. There was much that even Harry didn't understand about the events that had transpired and led up to Draco's decision to challenge Voldemort. How could he even hope to explain them to Ron?

They watched in silence as Harry imagined himself trying to start a conversation. He thought of various phrases to say, but they were all forced, all trite.

"She was born to fly," Ron finally said.

Harry smiled. He could talk about Ginny.

"It sure appears that way."

"You fly together often."

"Almost every day." Harry missed flying with her, missed their quiet conversations up in the air where nobody else could hear them, and the rapport they had built.

"She never liked Harry." Ron made a face when he said it, opened his mouth to correct himself, and then shook it away.

Harry was quiet, waiting for him to continue. He remembered her comments about how persistent Draco was and how he just wouldn't listen to her.

"But she likes you."

"We're two different people."

Ron was quiet again for a long period of time and Harry thought that this small chance he'd been given might be slipping away. Ron had obviously come up with some sort of agenda on his mind, but was losing his nerve, or just couldn't find the right words.

"I'm sorry for his loss."

"I wondered." Ron leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring out as his siblings passed a quaffle between them.

"I was pretty angry when he died. There seemed to be no purpose in it. But, after...well, after everything, I think that he didn't die in vain."

"What do you mean? He was a decoy for you, he shouldn't have even been there." Ron's face was turning red and Harry knew he'd found the pressure point.

"I agree."

"You should have...had the guts to do something to stop him."

Harry pushed away the annoyance and anger that erupted and sat up taller. He tried to remember that Ron was speaking from a place of grief, not necessarily rational thinking. "He was your best friend."

"Damn right."

"And you tried to stop him."

"Of course."

"Did anything you say help? Did it make him turn around and change his mind?"

Ron's mouth dropped open and then snapped closed.

"We all have our choices in this life. Draco had his, Ron. Nobody forced him to make the choice that he did. Yes, he was influenced by things that were outside his control-"

"A prophecy that wasn't even about him."

"Yes, the prophecy."

"That was about you."

Harry had already discussed this guilt with both Ginny and Sirius. He would forever carry some of it, but so would Dumbledore, and Snape, and even Ron himself.

"Yes. It was about me. I learned of it only after Draco's death."

"But you knew there was someone out there posing as you," Ron said. "You had to know there would be consequences."

"You're right," Harry said. "The choices I made affected other people. And the choices Draco made affected people, too. The choices we all make ripple outward, affecting everyone. And I'm sorry that he died. I'm sorry that you lost your friend. But he didn't die in vain. He sacrificed himself and bought us time. That time was necessary to…" He clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to talk about the horcruxes.

"Time to do what was necessary to defeat Voldemort. You may see that as a waste of his life, but who are you to say that it wasn't necessary, that his sacrifice wasn't essential to Voldemort's defeat. Because I'm here to tell you that it was. So, I'll remember Draco, Ron, every day that I wake up. He made it possible for me to do what I needed to do."

Unable to take it any longer, Harry snatched the broom he'd brought with him and mounted it, flying off to join the game.

They chose Grimmauld Place, mostly because they'd all grown tired of Hogwarts Castle, and there were no connections there with anyone who had died.

Sirius poured generous amounts of firewhiskey in each glass and levitated it around to everyone. Remus sat staring into the fire, on the same sofa with Dumbledore. Sirius and Harry had pulled armchairs close and even Dobby had moved his small chair into the semicircle.

They'd buried Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, and several others who had given their lives in defeating Voldemort today. There ceremony, held on the charred, broken Hogwarts grounds was solemn and stirring. Sirius had found himself staring at the castle and wondering if it would be ready to reopen in the Fall. But then he'd looked around at those attending the service and realized that they would make it happen, no matter what.

"Where's your wife?" he leaned over and asked Harry.

"You do realize that we haven't even gone out on one date yet."

"Dating possibilities were a little thin on the ground the past few weeks, I would suppose," Remus murmured.

"Quite," Harry said. "We were supposed to go the night…" He shook his head and Sirius wondered just what was on his mind. Harry had been unusually quiet about his experiences facing Voldemort. He suspected that Ginny knew more than anyone else, the way they would slip away and whisper in dark corners of the castle the last few days, faces pinched, body language intense.

"How do Ginny's parents feel about the two of you being together?" Sirius asked.

Harry laughed. "They're still confused about it all-"

"As we all are," Remus said.

"-but Ginny said they think I'm a 'fine, upstanding young man."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Apparently they haven't heard-"

"No," said Harry. "They haven't connected the dots just yet."

Sirius winced. "Well…"

"Ginny decided to stay home with her mum tonight," Harry said with a sigh. "Mrs. Weasley is still fretting about everything, furious that she felt so distant from it all and that her children were in danger."

"How is Fred?"

Harry smirked and leaned back into his chair, sipping at the drink Sirius had given him. "Giving high three's all over the place."

"And George?"

"The Misters Weasley have always had a knack for making the best of their situations," said Dumbledore.

He too had been particularly quiet and Sirius watched him, wondering if he was dealing with some of the same demons that Harry was.

"I believe it is time, Mr. Potter."

All eyes turned to Harry, whose eyebrows rose. "Why start with me? I don't remember anything at all about how this all started."

Instead, they turned to look at Dobby, who was sipping at a small glass of Butterbeer.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Dobby, if you wouldn't mind, tell us your side of the story?"

"Dobby remembers that night," the elf said in a small voice. "Dobby's masters-the nasty Malfoys-had been supporters of...of…" He took in a shuddering breath and continued on. "The night Master Harry's parents…" He glanced up at Harry, who gave him a steadying look. "Dobby heard them say they would look for the Boy Who Lived, that they would take him. Dobby couldn't let that happen, he had to do something."

"Quite right," Sirius said. Even though he'd always thought that the Malfoy's threats were all talk, he didn't blame Dobby for feeling as if he'd needed to step in.

"They wanted to 'raise him right'," Dobby said. "But Dobby knew what that meant. He'd seen the way they treated their own child. And the way they treated the other house elves…" He shook his head, his ears bobbing. "Dobby could not allow that to happen. So, Dobby waited and dropped the Mistress's expensive tea set. Dobby knew they would beat him, but they also gave him clothes. It was what Dobby wanted. Dobby took the child and he went to Surrey. And he waited."

Dumbledore held up his hand, dismissing any further painful recitations of the story. "Thank you, Dobby. I understand now."

"And now Master Malfoy is dead. And Master Draco."

"But both helped our cause in the end," Harry said. He was staring down at the drink in his hand. "Lucius tripped Voldemort at the end."

"And Bellatrix Lestrange killed him for it," Sirius said. He shook his head at the thought of the huge mess that the Ministry was still sorting out.

Sirius stood and refilled everyone's glass, topping Dobby's butterbeer off as the elf watched with wide eyes.

"I want to know how the two of you connected," Remus said, pointing to Sirius and Harry.

Sirius grinned and clapped his hands, rubbing them together.

"Oh, here we, go," Harry muttered.

"Young Harry here was already into his vigilante persona by the time I'd escaped Azkaban."

"How did you escape?"

But Sirius held up his hand. "Another question for another time, Moony, my friend. I'd seen a glimpse of Peter, the rat, in the newspaper, and knew that I had to get to him. I broke out and went searching."

"And that's where I come in," Harry said. "I was hired by the Minister of Magic-although he attempted to use an alias-to track Sirius down and take him back to Azkaban."

Dumbledore sighed. "Oh, Cornelius."

"When I finally caught up to him, we got to talking, and I knew that I couldn't turn him in. I returned the Ministry's money, told them to piss off, and-"

"And then locked me away in this lovely prison until last week."

Harry looked abashed. "It was for your own good."

Remus and Dumbledore exchanged a look and then both began laughing.

"When did you learn who you were, Harry?"

"Oh, Dobby was always honest with me."

Dobby, who was slouched down in his seat, eyes glazed, and a crooked smile on his face, only nodded and hiccupped.

"I always knew who I was and what had happened. And, deep down, I think I knew that one day I would… But not for sure until after Draco faced him."

"Yes," sighed Dumbledore. "Draco."

"How could you not have known?" Sirius asked him.

"Should I have? The concealment was done very convincingly. I kept my distance and knew nothing of Harry until he came to Hogwarts. You must remember that elf magic is very different from ours. If you do not suspect it, you don't think to look for it."

Dobby let out a little snore and curled further into his seat, contently drunk.

"I assume that is how you didn't fall to the traps protecting the horcruxes," he told Harry. "Lord Voldemort would not have suspected a house elf of being capable of foiling his enchantments."

"Right. At least that's what I assume happened," said Harry. "It's not like we set out looking for them, you realize. It just sort of...happened."

"Indeed. And thank Merlin it did," said Dumbledore. "Severus and I were making very little headway in finding them. To have two destroyed and sitting on my desk one morning…" He shook his head.

Harry and Sirius exchanged a grin. Breaking into Hogwarts had been fun. Sirius had broken out many times during his school years there, and could now say they'd done it twice. It was the one mission that Harry had allowed him to go on.

"What will you do now, Harry? More work as Blackheart?"

"No." Harry shook his head. This didn't surprise Sirius. The last year had been weighing heavily on Harry. The missions had gotten harder and harder to accept, and the longing for a normal life clawed at him. Sirius had seen it, and understood it.

"I don't...I don't know for sure," he said. "I still have a job…"

"Probably not anymore," Remus said with a shake of his head. "The Daily Prophet has already been covering Great Britain with parchment. You'll be lucky if you can even step foot outside without someone recognizing you."

Harry scowled. "Great."

"This too shall pass," Dumbledore assured him. "Give it some time."

"You could always do security consulting," Sirius said. "You already have the connections, after all. This time, just do it legally."

"Possibly."

There would be time, Sirius knew. Harry would find what he wanted to do. They all would, as a matter of fact.

"What about you, Padfoot?"

Sirius grinned. "I'll be doing a bit of consulting, myself."

They all looked at him.

"The Weasley Twins have hired me for research and development, on an as-needed basis. It's not like I need the cash, anyway. What about you, Moony?"

"Not sure, just yet," Remus said. "It's not like the offers are pouring in."

"You'll find something," Harry said.

"And you?" Sirius asked Dumbledore.

"Hiring a new potions professor, it appears. And Professor Sprout has decided to retire. It seems as if I will be quite busy this summer."

"I may find that I miss old Snivellus," Sirius said.

They lapsed into silence, listening to the crackle of the fire and the soft snores of Dobby.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Harry was not sure what to expect when Ginny announced that she was ready to bring him home to officially meet her family. He'd met them all, of course, but the prospect of sitting around a dinner table with all eyes on him wasn't exactly comfortable.

He and Ginny had been officially dating for almost six weeks, and he could honestly say he wasn't sure what he'd do without her. She had a way of cutting through the layers of rubbish in his life to get to the heart of things that made Harry want to kiss her, often. She'd been the one to help him organize his contacts and begin officially applying for wizarding diplomatic status-along with Percy's gentle guidance through the Ministry-so that he could consult with other governments and organizations legally. The first time he'd made a trip to France and actually gone through the proper channels to do so was rather disconcerting, he had to admit.

He missed the anonymity of Blackheart, but there were perks to being Harry Potter, as well, he was finding.

Ginny was training hard for a tryout with her beloved Holyhead Harpies late in the summer, and Harry enjoyed the afternoons they spent flying around various borrowed pitches and fields. While Nimbus had kept their jobs, and even offered them more money to come back and tie Harry's celebrity name with the company, both Harry and Ginny had decided that it wouldn't be worth the added security risks or trouble. Besides, neither were passionate about the work in the first place.

"Does this set of robes look too new to you?"

Sirius looked up from the magazine he was reading and peered at Harry. "They are new."

Harry huffed. "I don't want it too look like I'm trying too hard."

"Might help to remove the tags."

Snatching the Gladrags tag that dangled from his sleeve, Harry gave it a yank. Why was he so nervous about this? It was just the Weasleys. He walked back down the hallway, grumbling.

"And whatever you do, don't, under any circumstances-"

Harry slammed the door, not willing to listen to more of Siruis' advice. He'd been giving it for weeks, ever since Harry and Ginny had made things official. As if Sirius had any recent experience with women!

When Harry knocked on the back door of the Burrow, Ginny opened the door and pulled him inside by the lapels. She kissed him and Harry did his best not to fall over while he balanced the bottle of elf-made wine and bunch of flowers that Ginny was crushing.

"Not that I'm complaining," Harry said when she finally pulled back from him. "But why-"

"I knew you'd be nervous," she said. "You don't need to be nervous. And you were too cute when I opened the door, standing there in your new robes, all pressed, and holding those silly flowers. I just couldn't help it."

Harry looked down at the bouquet, looking much worse for wear after Ginny's enthusiastic greeting. "They're for your mum. Or...they were. Probably should just bin them now."

"They're fine." Ginny snatched them from him and tugged him further into the kitchen. "Mum would be happy with weeds picked from the field, honestly. That's all any of us ever got her." Harry watched, amazed, as she put the flowers in water and used a few spells to freshen them up. They looked better than when he'd bought them at the store.

"Can you do me a favor?" Ginny came close again, winding her arms around his middle and rocking them a bit from side to side.

"Sure."

"Channel a little Blackheart tonight?"

"What?"

Ginny peered up at him. "Mum invited the whole family. And I don't want you to worry about it. Just...use that confidence, and a little bit of swagger that you had when you were him. You'll do fine. And maybe that way nobody will give you any shite."

Harry thought about that. "I doubt that. Do you think I'm too...mild?"

"Most of the time, no. But...remember the other day when we were in Diagon Alley and were cornered by those blokes with the camera?"

Harry scowled. They'd been from some tabloid and only out to try and get a salacious picture that they could slap on their magazine cover.

"And you told them to piss off?"

"I'm not telling your family to piss off, Ginny."

She laughed. "The night is still young; you may change your mind. I'm talking about the way you acted. You were very...sexy." She finished in a whisper and Harry felt a shiver go up his spine.

"You think I'm-"

"Don't press your luck, Potter," she said with a giggle. "My parents and brothers-all six of them-are just behind that door."

"I like my chances," Harry said as he kissed her.

"That's what I was talking about."

"No snogging in the kitchen!"

"Who's snogging in the kitchen?!"

"Ooo, look, Mum! It's Harry Potter!"

"Maybe he'll autograph your-"

"Leave off, prats."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as the family filed in and Ginny refused to let go of him. He'd been nervous before coming, and a little after arriving, but Ginny was right. If he just showed a bit of confidence, he'd be fine. He'd been around most of these people as Blackheart at one point or another, and they'd respected him, or at least his skills. He could use that to his advantage now.

Laughter, greetings, handshakes, back slaps, and even a kiss on the cheek from Fleur, made him relax. Harry found himself sitting across from Ginny, her foot running up and down his calf every time she thought he was getting too serious. Her parents probably thought Fred and George had slipped something in his trousers, he jumped so much.

All in all, however, the meal was pleasant, and he enjoyed the company.

Ron even talked to him, something that had been happening more and more over the weeks that passed since the Final Battle. He was still struggling with Draco's death, but his other friends-Seamus, Neville, and Luna Lovegood-were helping. Luna was here as Ron's date, something that pleased Ginny because she could take the piss almost constantly now that they'd begun dating.

In fact, it appeared that the war had proved very profitable for Weasley romances. Percy and Fleur were exchanging small endearing phrases in French-Harry pretended that he couldn't understand them. Hermione was doing her best to cut Fred's meat for him, while he kept slipping things onto her plate to make her sprout feathers. She would scold him, but pretend to have forgotten the next time he did it. Bill was chatting up Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, but Harry thought that was likely just innocent flirting, really, since there was such an age difference. Charlie was going on and on about some girl in Romania. And George…

Well, George was still single, but the rumors were that he had a different date nearly every weekend, and he appeared to be happy, so who was Harry to judge?

"-Ginny, dear, did you get a chance to-"

"-more than three times the inflation-"

"-burn cream, but it itches something fierce-"

"-quand vas-tu lui dire, mon amour?-"

"-and then she said-"

"-we're thinking of expanding, actually-"

All of the talk made his head spin. He'd never been anywhere where this type of conversations were kept running around the table, with input from various people. It was fascinating and intimidating.

"-Kestrals dropped four goals in a row-"

"-sold thirty-nine of them last week, alone-"

He nearly dropped his glass when Ginny's foot climbed up the inside of his leg and nudged his thigh.

"Alright there, Harry?" George, who was seated next to Harry, gave him a knowing look.

"Fine." He tried not to let his voice break and vowed to get Ginny back for her timing.

"...wish I could get more of that corrumpam vineam. I know it's toxic, but it kept the garden gnomes in check. Ever since the Ministry outlawed it-"

"I bet Fred and George's bloke could get you some, mum."

All conversation stopped as Ron raised his voice from the far end of the table. Harry choked on the carrot he'd just put in his mouth. George thumped him helpfully on the back.

"Er...yeah, we could certainly ask him for you," Fred glanced at Harry.

Mrs. Weasley's face turned pink and she fussed with her hair. "Well, I wouldn't want to trouble-"

"I'll bet it's no trouble at all, Mum. Bloke like that, he probably has it lying around somewhere."

Harry had never met Charlie in his capacity as a Weasley, but Charlie seemed determined to make him pay for some unknown sin by making his face turn as red as possible.

"I do not understand the English Ministry," Fleur said with a toss of her white-blond hair. "They are so determined to regulate everything."

"Perhaps your friend can help, Fleur," Percy said. "He has French connections, doesn't he?"

"Or your cursebreaker friend, Bill," Hermione said, a sly grin on her face. "He probably deals with some shady characters in his line of work."

Harry felt like sinking into the table. He glanced over at Ginny who was trying hard not to burst out in laughter.

Only Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be completely lost in the conversation.

"I don't see how-"

"Yes, well, he does get mixed up with some bad company, doesn't he?" George asked. "Alright, Harry? You're looking a bit...flushed."

"I hate you all," he whispered, only making George laugh.

As much as they kept going on, making jokes about their various interactions with the spy, the things he had done, and even invented stories that had become lore, Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling, and even chuckling.

"I think we're missing something, dear," Mr. Weasley said.

"I think you're right, my love."

Harry looked across the table to see Ginny staring at him, a blazing look in her eyes. He took a breath, swallowed back the laughter and mouthed 'I love you' to her. She winked at him in response, and turned to listen to Percy's tale of almost-almost!-defeating the wizard known as Ombragé in a duel.

"-heard he once broke into the Russian Ministry, just to prove-"

"-and then returned the portraits to the authorities-"

"-put itching powder in a Death Eaters-"

"-made Mad-Eye Moody scream like a-"

"Would you care for some pudding, Harry?"

The Weasley siblings may have won the battle, Harry decided, but this war was far from over.

"I'd love some, Mrs. Weasley."

The End.

 **Note:** _All that is left is the author's note, which will be coming along shortly._


	21. final note

**Note:** _Every story is a different experience, and this one was quite the ride. It was like I was watching it being written on the screen in front of me. I am glad I waited until it was completely written before I published it._

 _Likewise, every story has a midwife to help it into the world. This time it was hgfan1111, who is an inspiration. Say thank you to hgfan1111._

 _Thank you for the reviews. Did you have a favorite part?_

 _Now if I can just get out of this little slump of depression I'm in, I'll get back to In Dreams and Death and Room of Forgotten Things. I also had an idea for an AU fic that will be more along the lines of Yellow Sub (in which the conflict is personal, rather than magical, so the story is mostly the relationship building between Harry and Ginny). I've actually started outlining it, which… normally I don't outline, I just know where I'm going. But the backstory is complex, and I need to know everything before I can even start writing. I'm not going to make the same mistake with (working title) Bless the Rains as I did with Socks, and have the backstory take up half of the story, but I need to work out all the details. If anyone wants to be a sounding board…_

 _Anyway. Good night._

 _Love, Ella_


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